Family Ties
by chiefhow
Summary: Sequel to Rebekah of the Woads. (Completed)Epilouge up! Please review, and let me know what you thought!
1. Chapter 1:Lancelot's Mother

**Here's the sequel to "Rebekah of the Woads" You may have noticed that I added two characters very near the end, and gave no satisfactory explanation as to why they were in the story. It's because I wanted them in this one. Have fun, and let me know how it is.**

Sera was pale as death. Her eyes were out of focus, and she appeared to be hyperventilating. Lancelot couldn't help but be concerned.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Sera just continued to stare straight ahead at the village they were rapidly approaching. "Your mother is going to hate me. Your mother is going to hate me..."

She continued to repeat this, until Lancelot silenced her with a kiss.

"She'll love you because I do. Besides, she'll be so happy to see me, she won't care that I'm not going to marry a Sarmatian girl." Said Lancelot, trying to quash his own doubts. His mother could be a rather...opinionated woman. She was not to be trifled with. She would probably hit him upside the head for not coming home sooner. They had waited at least a month after they were released to head home. She probably wouldn't appreciate the fact that he had no intention of staying. Well, if he did die this day, he could honestly say that he had not died a virgin. That was something, wasn't it?

Rebekah laughed. Poor Sera! Lancelot's village was closest, so it was the first stop on their list. Tristan's was last, so she had some time to breath before finding out if Tristan's mother really blew fire. She would probably get extremely nervous as they approached the end, and could only pray that it wouldn't show. She had a reputation to uphold.

They were a group of ten. Ten adventurers, with their first glimpse of accomplishment. The Woad women among them had opted not to wear their traditional battle garments, and instead borrowed some clothes from their various Sarmatian (or in Aine's case, Saxon) significant others. The Sarmatians were unfamiliar with the Woads as it was; there was no need to alarm them further.

Sebbi was grinning like a madman, which Aine would argue he was. A new country to explore! He had thought that he would spend the rest of his days exploring Britain, but this, this was incredible! The knights had not jested when they said that this was one of the most beautiful countries they had ever seen. Aine looked on, shaking her head. She couldn't believe that she had let Sebbi talk her into going with him! She was a Briton. She liked her home very much, thank you. Why did she need to know anything else? He was always trying to educate her on something or another, which generally resulted in Aine threatening him with castration. It took him at least twenty minutes to start up again.

Sera came to a decision. Her ancestors had ruled Britain during the days of the warrior chiefs. She would not let one woman defeat her. She was stronger than that! She would hold her head high! Lancelot noticed the change in his woman, and smiled. She would be all right if she continued to lie to herself, as she undoubtedly was. Sera could get through anything by tricking herself.

"You still have your war clothes, right?" He asked.

Sera snapped her head in his direction. She needed to focus! "Yes, why?"

"I really think it would be beneficial for you to wear later..."

Sera's mouth fell open. "Lancelot, we're close to your village! Your mother can probably hear you!"

"She can't hear me!" Lancelot scoffed.

"Oh yes, she can. Mothers have this strange sort of telepathy with their children. Don't deny it!"

He probably shouldn't have told Sera that his mother fancied herself a sorceress. He had said that in a moment of playfulness, and Sera had never forgotten it. As often as Lancelot tried to tell her it had all been a jest, Sera was convinced he was lying. And he was. Lancelot's mother did fancy herself a sorceress of sorts. He had very odd childhood memories. His mother had an ability to see through all of his very clever lies. It was rather unsettling. She also claimed to possess the power to hex those that vexed her. Lancelot didn't want to believe that it was true; It was probably just a coincidence that his paternal grandmother had lost all of her teeth after telling his mother that she hadn't given her son any decent children. Just a coincidence.

They were spotted by a young sentry, and were quickly surrounded by men and women far too old to remain on horses. The old Sarmatian warriors were confused. The men (but for one) were obviously of their own race. But who were the women? Why were they here?

Lancelot reached for a compartment of his saddle, and removed an amulet his sister had given him just before he left. They would recognize this, even if they didn't recognize him. Fifteen years changed many things, but this amulet had been in the family for longer than anyone could remember. This would not be forgotten. He held the amulet out for all to see, and looked into their eyes, searching for any recognition. Where was his family? Had they survived without him? A man rode forward, a rather shocked expression on his face. He knew that amulet! This was his son! But, how the years had changed him! He was not a beardless boy, now. He was a man. He was alive! That was no small miracle. Fifteen years of warfare did not leave many survivors.

"Lancelot?"

"Babai?"

"Well met. We have been waiting for you. Your mother, Amage, has been telling us that you would return."

"She's still claiming to have visions?" he asked, nervously glancing at Sera.

"Claiming? Don't let her hear you say that. She might get upset."

"I'll try to remember that. I like my teeth where they are."

Sera looked at him questioningly. He hadn't told her the tooth story.

"Who are your companions?" Babai asked.

Lancelot introduced his friends in turn, Sera growing increasingly nervous, until everyone's attention was fixed on her. She gulped, as Lancelot said,

"And this is Sera. We are betrothed."

There was an audible gasp that traveled across the circle of Sarmatians. One of their few young men was wasting himself on a foreigner? They had so few men left to repopulate their tribes, yet this one chose not to try at all? They would surely die out, if this trend continued. Babai chose not to voice his concerns at this point. The poor woman looked about ready to fall off her horse, she didn't need to be embarrassed in front of everyone. He would talk to Lancelot later.

"Come, your mother will be waiting."

And with that, the party continued on, to the village Lancelot had once called home. The scent in the air was familiar, and he was surprised to see how many people he actually remembered. It had been such a long time, and the years had not been kind to these people. Even his father looked about ready to return to the earth. His father had always been strong, and Lancelot was surprised to see how his clothes fluttered about his thin frame. He was not the man he once was. They came to a tent near the center of the village, and a young woman came out to meet them. She had curly brown hair, and brown eyed that looked strikingly like his own. This was his sister, Habren. She had only been about five when he left, she would be twenty now. Why wasn't she married? She was far past the age when his people started their own families. Yet, here she was, still sharing the family tent.

The party dismounted, and Lancelot stepped forward to meet the female half of his family. He and his sister eyed each other in a calculated manner, searching for any topic of conversation. It was not often that words failed Lancelot. He could think of nothing to say now.

"You don't seem too surprised to see me." He said, rather lamely.

"I'm not. Mother has been talking at us for days about you coming back."

Habren studied the rest of the group. Who were all these people? Over half of them weren't Sarmatians.

Suddenly, a rather short woman made an appearance. Her hair that had once been pure brown was now streaked with grey. Her eyes that had always seemed so far out of reality were more so in its depths. She strided over to Lancelot and enveloped him in a fierce hug. This quick action caught Lancelot off guard and he nearly yelped. He quickly covered this with a tight smile.

"Hello, Mother."

"What took you so long? You could have been here a month ago!" she chided him.

"We had to stay for my commander, Arthur's wedding. He's King of Britain now. Speaking of weddings, I'm going to be married as well. This is Sera." He said, taking this opportunity to introduce the love of his life to his very individual mother.

Amage and Sera stared at each other, measuring. Amage internally chuckled. The girl was clearly terrified, though she was making a brave attempt at hiding it. She was nearly shaking! Lancelot, silly boy that he was, had probably told Sera horrifying stories of her. She wondered what was so special about this foreign woman, that she should catch her son's eye. She was not an attractive woman; she did not appear to be overly sensual. Yet there was a definite strength about the way she held herself. She would do, yes. She would do just fine. If she made her son happy, Amage couldn't really object. She knew others of the tribe would, however. They had far too many young women without husbands. Rome had taken their men, and rarely returned them. Her own daughter, Habren was without a husband for that very reason. A shortage of males was forcing the Sarmatians into extinction. Amage was one of the few that saw interracial marriages as the answer. They could pass along their stories and their traditions just as well with another culture. If they continued as they were, there would be no one left to share their story. She foresaw the doom of her people.

"Welcome." Amage said simply to Sera.

Sera visibly relaxed. She was not completely at ease, but it was not as bad as when they first arrived.

Amage looked around the rest of the group. They would not have the tents to accommodate so many.

Seeing the direction of his mother's gaze, Lancelot said, "We all have our own tents. We can get our own food, you needn't worry about us."

Amage gave him a scathing look. "No need to insult your mother, boy. I will feed you, and you will see the error of your ways." Trying to say that she couldn't hand this number of guests? He really had turned into a twit in his absent years.

Trying to appease his mother, Lancelot said, "I wasn't trying to offend you, it's just we don't want to be a burden. Your food supply is short enough as it is."

Amage relaxed. Perhaps he had turned out all right after all. She nodded.

"All right. Make sure you have your food ready. Tonight we will celebrate your return. I will marry you two then."

And she turned back into her tent, leaving both Lancelot and Sera openmouthed behind her. They hadn't planned on getting married so soon!


	2. Chapter 2: Fights and Females

**I love writing this stuff! I have so much fun putting my characters into these predicaments! Muh, hah, hah!**

**Camreyn**- It was such a long and lovely review! I feel so loved!

**SunsetSparrow**- I'm glad!

**Veronica**- Thanks!

**Realtfarraige**- Sebbi will _always_ annoy Aine. It wouldn't be any fun, otherwise. Lancelot's mother is certainly not one to waste time.

**Mustang Gal**- Thanks! My first review! Whoopee!

Sera and Lancelot were in the process of setting up their tent. It was rather slow work, as they kept stopping to gape at each other. They were to be married tonight? It seemed so soon!

Sera was in a state of shock. It wasn't that Lancelot's mother was the evil hag that she had thought, but she was obviously expecting grandchildren! Grandchildren! Which would entail her to have a child! Was she ready for that? Physically, yes. She wasn't quite sure about the mental aspect. It might not be so bad if the child was raised in Britain, away from unbalanced women who would hex it. All they had to do was return to Britain, and everything would be all right. 'Keep telling yourself that, Sera. Keep telling yourself that.'

Lancelot couldn't help but think of his father's reaction to Sera. He hadn't been overly welcoming, but he hadn't pushed her away either. His mother's reaction had come as a complete shock. He had not expected her to be so receptive to the idea of him marrying a foreigner. Perhaps she wouldn't hit him when she learned he had no plans to stay...but perhaps not. Some things would never change.

* * *

Babai pulled Amage closer to him, so that they could talk without Habren overhearing.

"This marriage is no good. The woman was practically shaking! She would not bear strong children for Lancelot. She is not of our kind." He said softly.

"Is that all you thought of me when we were married? That I could bear you strong children?" Amage asked, dangerously. "She is a warrior. That much is obvious. She is not so different."

"She is not Sarmatian! That is enough! You will not marry them! The Gods do not wish it so!"

Amage took a step closer to him, lowering her voice to a dangerous level. "Listen to me. You do not know the will of the Gods. I will do as I see fit. You have forgotten the old ways. You are so Roman now, you disgust me! Our women are not to be treated like livestock! We are above such things, and until today, I thought you were too. Go, and do not come back until you are ready to admit the error of your ways."

They glared at each other for some time. Babai was infuriated. In sixteen years of marriage, she had never sent him away. They had had their fights, to be sure. What married couple didn't? But this was more.

Amage couldn't believe that this was Babai talking! He had never been so blatantly Roman in his life! It was a sure sign that they were losing the battle. Their ways would die out, if they remained in this state. The Roman ideals were becoming their own. This, Amage would not tolerate. She was proud of her ancestors, and would not let their ways be forgotten. She had taught her daughter, Habren, in battle art. It was becoming more and more rare for females to be trained in such things. They were being Romanized, and they didn't even notice it!

* * *

The village was buzzing about the new arrivals. Many mothers were sizing the knights up, thinking of them for their daughters. The Romans had been taking too many of their men, trying to save their beloved empire. It did not make for much procreation. Lancelot hadn't turned out half bad! Why was he dallying with that Sera girl? She wasn't Sarmatian, she wasn't even pretty!

* * *

Habren watched as the knights set up their tents, with the help of the Woads. It was odd to see her brother after all this time. She could barely remember him. Now, he had returned, and caused her parents to fight. What would these other newcomers bring? Many of the men were quite attractive, and all but one was Sarmatian. They would do.

* * *

"Is your family anything like Lancelot's?" asked Rebekah, trying to hide her apprehension. Poor, poor Sera. She wasn't made for such stressful situations!

Tristan put the final touches on their tent, and turned to her, not showing his amusement.

"No. My mother doesn't claim that the Gods speak to her. She just never shuts up. My father is a man of few words. He rarely has an opportunity to use words, anyway."

Rebekah stood, stunned. That was the longest speech Tristan had made in a long time, and his words were even touched with sarcasm. It was a miracle! She crossed over to him, and kissed him. It was a long time before the kiss was broken, and turned into an embrace. They had been riding for a long time. It was nice to have the quiet. As Rebekah looked over Tristan's shoulder, she saw a rather unsettling sight. There was a large group of women looking on, glaring at Rebekah. She had no business with one of their men!

Rebekah cleared her throat. "Tristan, we have an audience."

Tristan released Rebekah and whipped around, cursing himself. Normally, he would have noticed such a large group of people in such close proximity. Love made you stupid. He made a mental note. Never start cuddling with Rebekah when a potential battle was afoot. It could never end well.

An old woman stepped forward.

"I am Tabiti. This is my daughter, Avesta," she said, indicating the beautiful girl beside her. "If you would like, you may share our tent, good Sir. Your travel must have been long."

Rebekah's jaw nearly dropped, but she caught herself. This woman was completely ignoring her! She was practically offering Tristan her daughter's hand in marriage! It was if Rebekah wasn't even present! That made Rebekah very upset. Her face, however, was the picture of calm. If only she could see how much her expression resembled Tristan's.

Tristan was slightly taken aback, but it didn't show. He really should have expected this, with the number of males available. Rebekah couldn't be liking this situation. Rebekah could usually control herself, but it was best not to tempt fate. His woman could be rather violent when provoked. While it was one of the traits he admired about her, he preferred that said violence was directed at a mortal enemy. He couldn't really call his own people a mortal enemy.

"I will be fine in the tent I will be sharing with Rebekah." He said, indicating the woman beside him. "Thank you, for your concern."

He placed his hand at the small of Rebekah's back, mentally begging her to be gracious.

"But, I'm sure you would be more comfortable with _us_. I'm sure the _lady_ could manage on her own." Said Tabiti, not being terribly gracious herself. She glared at Rebekah, silently dismissing her.

Rebekah cocked her head at the old woman. She had been taught from a very early age to respect her elders, but had never really had a problem with it until now. She didn't think she could control herself for much longer. If they remained in this village for much longer, she couldn't be held accountable for her actions.

"I'm sure we will be just fine as we are. If you will excuse us..." Tristan said, and dragged Rebekah behind him, into the tent. Rebekah was nearly hissing.

"My, aren't we glad we're getting off to such a wonderful start with the locals?" asked Rebekah in a rather acidic tone.

Tristan shied away from her slightly. She was a bit frightening at the moment. She would be all right soon, she just needed an opportunity to cool off.

"I'll just leave, shall I?" asked Tristan, in a rare show of nerves.

Rebekah's glare softened a bit, and she caught his sleeve as he tried to escape. "I'm not angry with you. You didn't do anything."

Tristan very nearly sighed with relief.

Rebekah laughed at the expression on his face, and kissed him.

"So, rethinking your decision to marry me yet?" she teased.

"Actually, yes. Tabiti looks very attractive for a woman of her age." Said Tristan, letting out a small smile.

Rebekah pretended to look askanced. "Well, if that's really the way of it, Laim was looking especially attractive when he bid us good bye."

"That might be, but you're forgetting- at the time, he also had his arm around a pregnant Etain." Tristan pointed out.

"You think I couldn't get him to change his mind?" asked Rebekah, with a grin.

"A month ago, yes. You wouldn't need to change his mind. Now, absolutely not. No matter how good you are in bed, he's fallen in love with Etain."

It was true. He had fallen in love with Etain. It was rather sweet, really. The baby was eight moon cycles away, and they couldn't be much happier. Rebekah didn't feel the need to dwell on this. Talk of pregnancies always made her nervous. What if the herbs didn't work?

"Did you just admit that I'm good in bed?" she asked, instead.

"No." said Tristan, reverting back to his usual pattern of speech.

Rebekah sighed. It had been a real breakthrough.

* * *

Sebbi's eyes were alight with curiosity, as he dragged Aine about the village. Aine was grumbling about 'mad Saxons who don't have a bloody clue how soon they're going to lose their means for procreation', when she began to notice all the female attention Sebbi was attracting. She felt oddly defensive. She and Sebbi were just friends, why was she feeling like this? He drove her mad, always going on about some weed or another. She wasn't interested!

* * *

Deirdre tugged at Galahad's curls playfully. She was feeling slightly threatened by the massive number of eligible women present, though she tried not to show it. Galahad smiled at her, and she relaxed. This was Galahad! He loved her!

* * *

Radha was indifferent to the dominant female presence of the tribe. She and Gawain shared a bond deeper than appearances. She was not worried. Gawain never strayed far. When a woman was worried about losing her man, she probably already had. They were words to live by, and Radha followed them to T. It had worked for he thus far. Gawain hadn't so much as looked at another woman (well, perhaps a passing glance) since they met. Her self-confidence was one of the many things that Gawain loved her for.

* * *

Everyone was making preparations for sundown. Much would be decided then.

* * *

**Well?**


	3. Chapter 3:MRC in hostile territory

**So much MRC! WHOOPPEE! For readers who find this resembling a soap opera, don't worry; I do have an actual plot in mind. I just want to show how each relationship stands. This is very much an ensemble story. **

**ChildlikeEmpress**- I was so worried! Good luck with your computer woes!

**Nianko**- Great story!

**Realtfarraige**- If I was Sera, I would be pretty pissed off! But, then again, if I was Sera, I could get Lancelot to distract me for a while...I like making characters compliment each other.

**Power of wisdom**- Thanks. No offense taken. I got the names from sites about Sarmatian gods/mythology, and the other characters I got from Pict and Celt sites. Sebbi, I got from Saxon mythology. I like giving them distinct names, as I use a lot of characters, and people get confused.

**TJ**- I love Sebbi and Aine. They rock my socks. They're both so clueless, in their own unique way.

**Cheetah Princess**- Don't we all!

**Camreyn**- I _am_ jumping for joy! Maybe you should write the story, your plot lines are always so intriguing! (Have you ever thought of writing something? The way you write your nice long reviews is great, I'm sure you have the talent to write something truly awesome.)

**Veronica**- I have a bit more Galahad just for you!

**Midnytestar**- I love Tristan, and he therefore deserves good lines. GO TRISTAN, HOTTIE EXTRORDINAIRE!

**Mustang Gal**- Thanks!

Rebekah was looking at Tristan in a rather calculated manner. She had been trying to think of a way to distinctly mark him 'off limits.' There was one way that would not seem overly territorial. (She didn't think that hanging a large sign reading 'Rebekah's-do not touch' around his neck was a terribly good plan.) She reached into her satchel, and removed the container of Woad paint. She had brought it for sentimental value, but was happy to find that it did indeed have a practical purpose. She grabbed Tristan's arm, and sat him down on the floor of the tent. Usually, Tristan didn't allow people to drag him about. For Rebekah, he made an exception. Rebekah kneeled down next to him. She dipped a finger into the container, and outlined his tattoos in paint. She handed the container to Tristan, and he outlined her tattoo. It didn't look half bad. Rebekah was feeling very pleased with herself. She rearranged herself so that she was situated on Tristan's lap, and kissed him. Tristan was starting to think that visiting Lancelot's village wasn't so bad after all. He had been a bit worried about meeting the people who had whelped such a conversational knight. He had been terrified he would run into identical to his mother. He loved the woman to little bits, but she could be rather...oppressive. Agh! He was thinking about his _mother_ when Rebekah was feeling in such a giving mood! What was wrong with him?

Rebekah felt the subtle change in his body, and pulled away, studying him. Something wasn't right. Was he having second thoughts? Had he decided that he should stay with his own people? Her worry only showed slightly on her face, but it was not wasted on Tristan. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to him. In a rare show of romanticism, he kissed her hair, before moving on to her mouth. He really didn't want to discuss his mother right now. They would have plenty of time for that later. Rebekah laced her fingers through his erratically braided hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. It was something else entirely. She would figure it out later.

Sebbi grabbed Aine's hand and dragged her towards a group of giggling women. Aine rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be pulled along. This way, she could keep an eye on him without him becoming suspicious. Her infatuation would end eventually, as all her others had previously. This was no big deal. It was just a phase. Sebbi didn't think of her that way. Sebbi didn't think of _any_ woman that way. He would probably spend the rest of his days, roaming distant lands in search of enlightenment. Aine was surprised to find that she would miss all of his irritating habits. Now _that_ was odd.

The women, who had been watching Sebbi with interest, giggled still more steadily as he approached, blushing. 'It was enough,' thought Aine, 'to shame the whole of the female sex.' Didn't they have anything better to do? A tall slender woman with light brown hair and snappy brown eyes stepped forward, giving Sebbi a once over, ('Which she's probably already done at least a hundred times by now, the slut...' thought Aine,) and flashed him a coy grin.

"My name is Argimpasa. And you are?" she asked Sebbi, the flirtatious edge clearly ringing in her voice.

Sebbi, being Sebbi, completely missed this overture and responded with a friendly smile.

"I'm Sebbi, and this is Aine." He said, indicating the Woad. The other woman did not appear terribly interested in the warrior, whose grey eyes flashed in annoyance. ('Stupid twits.')

"Sebbi, you're not from around here, are you?" asked Argimpasa, tilting her head, a finger tapping her lip, in a theatrical version of "thought"

'No he isn't, genius. Perhaps if you spent more time fighting and less time in front of the mirror, you wouldn't need to hook a foreigner. Now, bitch woman, stay away from Sebbi, he doesn't know what he's getting himself into! You're taking advantage of his innocence!' thought Aine, fuming. In reality, she really didn't know about Sebbi's innocence. He rarely talked about his family, and she couldn't really picture him with a woman. Perhaps she didn't want to picture him with another woman. Mental head slap

"No, actually. I'm a Saxon, coming by way of Britain." Said Sebbi matter of factly. Yeah! Someone to share his learning with!

"But what were you doing in that awful place?" she asked, eyes wide.

'She can't possibly be this stupid.' Thought Aine, bitterly. What did she know of Britain?

"I am exploring Britain, with the help of my heroine, Aine." Responded Sebbi, jovially.

Once again, he was trying to bring the attention back to Aine. Really, she should try to make some friends.

"Why would this..._woman_ help you?" asked Argimpasa, slight suspicion edging her voice now.

'_Woman_? I'll give you _woman_!' thought Aine, viciously.

Sebbi, completely oblivious to the silent battle going on around him said, "She gave me a home, and a position in her tribe, and she hardly ever complains when I drag her off on my escapades. Well, hardly ever complains is being rather generous," he said, with a good natured laugh, inviting them all to share in the joke, "Aine isn't really interested in these things."

"I'm fascinated by them! I'll bet I could show you a thing or two about Sarmatia..."gushed Argimpasa, showing her teeth in what she probably thought was an attractive manner.

"That would be wonderful!" said Sebbi, and Argipasa promptly dragged him off.

Aine looked on in shock. Sebbi had _no_ idea what that woman wanted. Or did he? Aine was not considered a terribly feminine woman. Argimpasa was everything she wasn't. She sighed, and went off to find the others. The other women were smirking at her, and whispering behind their hands. The topic of their latest gossip was hardly difficult to figure out.

Sera was getting over the shock of it all, now. In reality, it wasn't much different than their original plan. It was just a bit sooner than expected. She loved Lancelot, and for reasons unknown to man, he loved her. She crossed the tent to him, and kissed Lancelot firmly on the lips. They were comfortable with each other's distinct styles by now, yet there was always an element of surprise. Lancelot swallowed a groan, and unconsciously wondered at his good fortune, to love and be loved by the gorgeous creature currently enveloped in his arms. Perhaps his mother was really doing him a favor, marrying them so soon. It gave Sera less time to come to her senses and see what an inferior being he was. He couldn't bear to point out these flaws himself, he wanted her too much. She saw these flaws, but they didn't matter to her. They completed one another.

Suddenly a figure entered their tent. They broke apart hastily, and looked into the face of Habren, Lancelot's sister. This was a very uncomfortable situation for all players involved. They all shifted nervously, and finally, Habren spoke.

"Father sent me to tell you...he does not approve of this union. He is withholding his blessing."

Lancelot looked slightly stunned at these words, while Sera was hurt. She had already had to endure the hateful stares of the women of the tribe, now her future father-in-law made it clear he thought her inferior. Perhaps he was right. Lancelot saw all of these emotions play out on her features, and pulled her to him, reassuring. His mother still liked her, didn't she?

Habren didn't see anything wrong with this Sera girl, even if she was a bit plain. Her brother loved her, though, that much was obvious. Habren needed no more evidence of that. She was confused about her parents' argument. How had changed their opinion, and when? They had been in love once, perhaps they still were. Her mother had raised her to be proud of her Amazon ancestors, and she was. The woman in front of her was strong. Often times, people equated strength with lack of emotion. It was quite the reverse. One must have strength to show what they felt to the world. Your fears could easily be turned against you.

"I will be there to bless you. Father will come round." Maybe.

She left the tent, with Lancelot's grateful (but small) smile. Now, she just needed to find herself her own Sarmatian.

Radha was sharpening her weapons. While she didn't think she would have to resort to violence, it never hurt to be prepared. Gawain looked on in wonder. They would be attending a wedding, and she was making sure her weapons were in order. Gods, he loved this woman! Gawain had always loved women, but they were all the same to him, until Radha. Most women were insecure, and constantly seeking reassurances from their partners. Radha never seemed to get jealous, or even suspicious. It was impossible for him to even consider taking any other woman up on the various offers he received. In a way, it was infuriating that she had such a hold over him. But then he considered the benefits of Radha's companionship and decided it was worth never sleeping with another woman ever again. She didn't simper. He liked that. She wasn't ashamed of her fierce side. He liked that too. She understood him. He really liked that. For her part, Radha liked his sense of fun, that was missing in so many of the men she had slept with in the past. They could have intelligent conversation, as well as conversation that had no logic whatsoever. Radha had grown up serious. With Gawain, she was allowed to have some fun.

Radha set down her weapons abruptly, and tackled Gawain. This was definitely a perk of their partnership. Gawain had never minded being jumped by gorgeous women. Just one of his little quirks. After the initial scuffle, Radha ended up on top, and smiled down at him. They kissed, and when they came up for air, they decided it was time for some verbal communication.

"Is your mother authoritive too?" asked Radha. Gawain and Galahad's village was their next destination, and Radha wanted to be fully prepared for what awaited her. Radha had never given much thought to marriage, always assuming that it would happen if it happened. Now, she was slightly apprehensive about meeting potential in-laws. Lancelot's people had not been precisely welcoming to them, and she was worried about the kind of reception that she would get from them.

Gawain smiled at her, and decided, given the circumstances, that it was best not to frighten her. She was scared enough as it was, though she would never admit it. "Believe it or not, my family is normal...pretty much."

"Pretty much?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, my uncle believes that women live only to oppress men, so you might get a rather chilly reception from him. Don't worry about it, though. He's out of his mind, and everyone knows it. If he tries anything, you could take him."

"True. Hmmm...Women living to oppress men...I wonder where he got that idea..." she said, grinning.

"So, if he starts glaring at you, and asks how you fake birth pains, just ignore him."

"Fake birth pains!? Has he ever had children, been near a woman who has?"

"No! Do you think any woman would _want_ my uncle around while they're giving birth?" he asked, incredulously.

"You're right. When we have children, it will be in Britain, far away from your crazed uncle."

There was a shocked silence from both of them following these words. She hadn't meant to say that! Or had she? Did she want children with Gawain? The rather stunning answer was, yes. She wanted to embark on a new kind of adventure, and she wanted to do it with Gawain. Their gazes locked, and their thoughts were one. Gawain picked Radha up, and set her down on the cot. Usually, such an action was followed by Radha's hand straying to her satchel for the herb Sera supplied her with. The pattern was broken. They did not want the herb now.

"I love you." She said softly, afraid the words would swallow her whole. When they didn't, she pulled him down to her, and they devoted their time to nonverbal communication.

Deirdre looked pleadingly at Galahad.

"Stay here with me, please? The women are always glaring at me if I leave the tent!" and I don't want you alone with any of those scheming wenches, she thought.

Galahad looked up at her in surprise. Didn't she know that he didn't want to be surrounded by those giggling girls? He had all the woman he wanted right in front of him. In a rare turn of events, Galahad surprised Deirdre with a kiss. Deirdre stopped thinking about tactics to avoid their 'hosts' and concentrated on how lucky she was to have found someone who was so sensitive and attentive to her needs. Most men didn't care. He did. He was sweet, yet could be lewd when the occasion called for it. And he was content, more than content, with her. It was a moment in Deirdre's life where she really started to realize her own worth. She cared for Galahad. That was enough.

Argimpasa led Sebbi back to her tent. Sebbi was slightly confused, curious as to what wonder lay within this tent. Argimpasa beckoned him in, and he followed, slightly suspicious now. Argimpasa slowly made her way over to Sebbi, and put his hands to the back of her dress.

"So, what would you like to see first?" she asked, seductively.


	4. Chapter 4:Woad Wedding Preparations

**This is pretty short, but I felt like updating. If I hadn't added this now, you wouldn't have had anything until Sunday, so I don't feel too bad about that. **

**Nianko- Argimpasa bugs everyone.**

**ChiaraStorm- I hope you feel better! For Argimpasa, I'm they could remove her uterus. I'm told this extremely painful, and wince every time it is mentioned. No I didn't get the name from there, but it totally fits!**

**BillieLiv- Thanks!**

**Camreyn- Your longest review ever! YES! (chiefhow does the hustle) Habren is a complex character. Holland Rocks!**

**SunsetSparrow- Poor Sera indeed! Why does everything always seem to happen to her?...hmm...**

**Camlann- I would laugh my ass off to see Tristan adjusting to fatherhood! **

**Veronica- Go Galahad and Gawain!**

**MonDieu666- Thanks!**

**Emerald Eyed Cutie- Cool, your from Texas! I'm from Minnesota. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you love TRISTAN, WHO IS A HOTTIE EXTRORDINAIRE!**

Regardless of appearances, Sebbi was not an idiot. He simply preferred to see the good side of people. It now dawned on him what Argimpasa was attempting to do. Duet to the lack of Sarmatian male specimens, he was seen as an acceptable substitute. This, he could not tolerate. He was not a substitute, nor did he sleep with women he had just met as of five minutes ago. Aine would _never_ think to do something like this!

Sebbi roughly removed Argimpasas's hands from his body, and looked upon her in a rather affronted manner. "What are you doing?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Educating you..." said Argimpasa in coy voice, still with that seductive smile firmly in place. She tried to touch him again, but he backed away further. This confused her. Weren't men supposed to be slobbering dogs when it came to women?

"My education is fine as it is. I will search for enlightenment elsewhere." He said, and swiftly left the tent. He was flustered, and out of sorts. He did not watch where he was going, and ran right into Aine. She noted his flushed face, and his confused expression, and knew exactly what had happened. She managed to stop herself from turning on her heal and beating Argimpasa into a bloody pulp. See how pretty she was then. Sebbi, Sebbi, Sebbi. He didn't know how attractive he was to the female sex. Someone should tell him, though Aine really couldn't bring herself to being the one. They stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence, each trying to guess what the other was thinking. Finally, Aine could stand it no longer, and went to their tent, leaving a thoroughly confused Sebbi behind.

Gawain and Radha sought out Lancelot's mother. When Amage saw Radha, she stopped, and a slow smile spread across her face. She patted Radha's abdomen. Radha looked at her in surprise. How could she know? Amage agreed to their request. They wished to be married before Gawain's uncle could cause any trouble. His tribe would not shun Radha as easily. They returned to their tent, Gawain with a territorial arm around Radha's waist, guarding her from the glares of the women. Not that she needed a personal guard. Gawain had a feeling that Radha would be a formidable enemy nine moons into her birthing cycle.

Rebekah prepared her garments for the feast. As a visiting and high-ranking Woad, her appearance would be marked. She decided to wear her battle garments. It would be symbolic and practical. The Romans were not protecting their own any more, and bandits were an increasing problem in all corners of the Empire. Tristan could not help but be pleased with her choice in garment. As long as he didn't make any stupid remark about it (as Lancelot would) he could observe the way the leather hugged her body all through what was promising to be a very long and boring feast. Besides, it made her look more powerful than a dress would. Rebekah needed to establish dominance.

Sera was in the sea green dress that Fulcinia had given her. Sera didn't have much use for dresses, so it was the only one she owned. She desperately wanted to wear her Woad gear, but didn't think it would be appropriate at a Sarmatian wedding. She sighed.

Rebekah called through the tent flap, not wanting to witness any premarital procreation. She loved both Sera and Lancelot very much, but some things, she had rather never see. Sera responded, and Rebekah entered the tent. Rebekah looked at the dress Sera was wearing in shock. Woad women were generally wed in their battle gear. (Guinevere being the exception) Their people had been at war for so long, often the bride had no other garments. It had become a tradition.

"Where are your clothes?" asked Rebekah, incredulously.

Sera noted Rebekah's garb, and sighed enviously. If only she could wear that! It was so comfortable, as apposed to the Roman dress she was wearing.

"Do you want the Sarmatians to think that you are ashamed of your heritage? What of your ancestors? They ruled Britain! And besides, do you really want to be married in that stiff Roman attire?" Asked Rebekah, knowing her friend really didn't want to wear the dress. Sometimes, Sera just needed a push in the right direction.

"Do you think they'll mind?" asked Sera, a bit hesitantly.

"If they do, just remember. We aren't staying."

Sera nodded and reached for her satchel, a grin on her face.

"I'll get Deirdre, Radha, and Aine to wear the same. Show them what we're made of. Not everyone looks good in these. All of those Sarmatian sluts haven't been keeping themselves in shape." Rebekah told her a bit derisively, and hurried off to tell the others.

Rebekah called out to Radha, and received a return call. She entered the tent to find Radha in Gawain's lap. For some reason, Gawain was gazing at Radha's abdomen, under his palm. Rebekah was confused before realizing what such an interaction must mean. She hadn't been expecting that one!

"Well, it appears congratulations are in order! I just came by to tell you that Sera and I will be wearing our battle garb to her wedding. Show the Sarmatian sluts who their up against." Said Rebekah.

Radha smiled at her. "I will be wearing my battle gear to my own wedding. We are to be married as well."

It was another shock for Rebekah. But a happy one.

"Congratulations again! I'll go check on the others, see if they'll wear it too." She said and left, not wanting to disturb their happiness. She had never really envisioned children in her life. Tristan didn't really strike her as a fellow who wanted little ones running underfoot, but he still managed to surprise her every so often. She went to Aine's tent. She had never really known why Aine had agreed to come. Sebbi, perhaps? Rebekah had never seen Guinevere's sister have any particular affection for a man not her father. She generally ignored the male species, but she tolerated Sebbi. Perhaps there was more there. Rebekah entered the tent without calling out. She really didn't think she would be interrupting anything.

Aine was crying. Crying! Aine! What was going on here? Rebekah allowed her confusion to show, and Aine looked up. She looked startled, and quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks. She put on a smile.

"What's wrong?" asked Rebekah.

"Nothing." Said Aine, rather defiantly. There would be no getting an answer from her now, Rebekah would work on this later.

"Well, we were just wondering if you wanted to wear your battle gear to Sera and Radha's wedding. Show the Sarmatians we aren't afraid."

Aine considered this. She didn't look half bad in her Woad gear. 'Argimpasa, eat your heart out!' she thought. She would show that bitch.

"Sure. I'll see you then." It was a blatant dismissal, and was not lost on Rebekah. Aine wanted to be alone. She would do that for her.

Rebekah returned to her tent after informing Deirdre of the dress code. Deirdre was looking forward to the feast now. Nothing like leather to give a girl some confidence. (Author's note: While I am a semi-vegetarian, and do not wear leather, they do, and I can only assume that it is a confidence booster.)

Sebbi wandered aimlessly through the camp, not really seeing anything. Aine was upset about the situation. He was upset about the situation. What did that mean? For the second time that day, he ran into someone. He looked about, and finally looked down. It was Amage. She beckoned him into her tent, and Sebbi knew that seduction was not in her plan. But what was?


	5. Chapter 5: Past and Present

**Many of you seem to think that Sebbi has no depth, and that Amage is all knowing. Hmmm... Enjoy!**

**TJ**- Clarity? One can only hope.

**Nianko**- Amage _is_ a great character. She's so much fun to write!

**A.K. Anonymous**- Thanks!

**Veronica**- Sorry, Galahad didn't make the angsty cut. He'll be in the next chapter, though.

**Cheetah Princess**- Indeed!

**Camreyn**- I merely stated that Aine would not sleep with someone she had only met five minutes ago. Obviously, she does sleep with people that she has known for longer periods of time. I never said she was pregnant. You really shouldn't trust Amage so much. She's _Lancelot's _mother. Remember that. Besides, with Etain- how do you know the herb is foolproof? I think fatherhood would be a bit of a shock for our poor Tristan, but then again, I have been known to be rather heinous on occasion. If you wish to know more about Amage, you're going to love this chapter! Let me know how it is. Yes, Galahad and Gawain are from the same village. They seemed to have quite a bond in the movie, and it helps my purposes. It's much easier to write about three different villages, as apposed to four. Thanks!

**Dazzler420**- Thanks!

**Emerald Eyed Cutie**- What are you talking about, sugar is awesome! I love your reviews!

**ChildlikeEmpess**- I'm so glad your computer is felling better! Long live Vegitarians!

It was a hasty plan, Amage admitted to herself. She had had hardly any time to think any of this through. She had lied several times today, but it was for the betterment of mankind, was it not? If her race was to survive, they needed to be lead in the right direction. She had always done so in the past by claiming to have a vision. Why shouldn't she continue? If the girl wasn't pregnant already, she would be soon. No harm done. Lancelot and Sera would have gotten married at some point, though perhaps not as soon. It was what they wanted. Yet, she still felt rather guilty, for some reason. Then she saw Sebbi wandering aimlessly past her tent.

Many people thought that Amage could see the future, that she could speak to the Gods. In reality, Amage was simply intelligent. She was observant. When she told someone to remain true to their marriage vows, they always looked shocked. They didn't know that it was apparent to the rest of the tribe that they were being unfaithful, and Amage was the only one brave enough to speak to them about it. Yes, she foresaw the doom of her people, though it was not through any vision. Anyone who would take a minute to look around could see that without males, their tribe could not procreate. It really wasn't all that mysterious, the ways in which Amage saw the world. When she lied, it was to help people, not to harm them. She did not accept bribes for hexes, or visions. She did what she could to protect her people. Sometimes, a well-placed herb in someone's food was all that was necessary for them to see the error of their ways. Sometimes, people didn't know what was best for them. Amage did. She could see what was going on between Sebbi and Aine. They did not. She would remedy that.

Amage didn't know why she was doing this. It was really none of her business, and it didn't matter to the tribe if these two foreigners ever got over their emotional issues. Yet, here she was, inviting a Saxon into her tent, to have a nice long talk about romance. She was getting soft, it was the only explanation. Soon, she would not trust her self to keep the balance in her tribe. She was being ruled by her emotions, and in leadership, that was never a good thing.

Amage gently but firmly steered Sebbi into her tent. She sat him down in one of the makeshift chairs, and took the seat opposite him. She knew she made for a rather imposing figure, but there wasn't much she could do about it. Some people simply exuded power.

"How long has it been, Sebbi?" she asked, quietly.

Sebbi looked at her quizzically, not understanding her meaning.

"Who was she?" she asked, more gently this time.

Sebbi's breathing was becoming irregular. How could she know? In all of his travels, he had never found evidence of any one being able to read another's mind. How could she know?

"How do you know about Cynwise?" he asked, instead of answering.

Ah, so that was her name. It hadn't been difficult to deduce that there had once been a woman in Sebbi's life, and she was interested in why she was not present now. Sebbi was not as simple as he appeared. People often assumed that those who appear cheerful often have no regrets or worries in their lives. That they had never suffered a loss. That was simply stupid. Cheerful people just worked harder to hide it. Everyone suffers in the grand scheme of life, some of us cope with it better than others. Sebbi was a master with covering up his past, and now, he was finding it hard to discern what was happening in his present.

"What happened to her?" asked Amage. She saw the slump of his shoulders, the shudder that ran through his body. He was fighting hard to control and hide his emotions, but it was clear that he was losing the battle.

"She's gone."

Silence hung in the air, as Sebbi breathed heavily at the ground, and Amage pondered his words. There were so many meanings. She had left, she was dead, he had moved on...what had really happened? Sebbi's head was now in his hands, as he forced back a sob. He had not thought about her for years. Well, he'd _tried_ not to think about her for years.

"Cynwise was my wife. Killed by raiders." He said, shortly. He couldn't believe he had just said that. He had never told anyone about Cynwise before. She had been slashed from behind; she never had a change at defending herself, or the child she carried. She had died, sputtering blood, in his arms. Sebbi had then thrown himself into history, into learning, anything to get him away from what happened. He had lived, while she had died. Fate had a cruel whim. Just when you thought you had everything, it was all taken away from you. Everything. He should have been there, he should have been the one to bleed. Yet, he had been the one to stand over her body, tears coursing down his bloodstained cheeks. Cedric, king of the Saxons had forced all males of age to enlist in the Saxon army. Sebbi hadn't complained. He hoped to get himself killed, not being able to do so himself. What he saw on his arrival in Britain had not sat well with him. The Saxon's hacked up the men, along with all the women and children. Like his Cynwise. Like his unborn child. He wanted no part in such atrocities.

When he had first seen Aine, she wanted to kill him. Yet, he wouldn't attack her. She had slashed apart the rest of his group, yet still he did nothing. It wasn't until one of the men had tried to slash her from behind that he had reacted. He remembered the pain, and the shock when he saw Cynwise fall. She had been attacked from behind, he would not allow this woman, no matter who she was, suffer the same fate. He had killed the soldier, as he often dreamt of killing the raider who had slaughtered his wife and child. The Saxon and the Woad had stared at each other in shock. Finally, Aine had marked him as one of her own. He could still remember the sweat, blood, and paint that covered her slick skin smearing on his. He could nearly feel the battle lust coursing through her veins. He had followed her that day, never letting her out of his sight. After the battle was over, she had made him apart of her band of warriors. Sebbi could not refuse. He didn't like the idea of her fighting on her own. She needed someone to watch her back. Literally. He had felt a bit of guilt every time he looked at, or thought about Aine. It didn't seem right. He had had the love of his life already, and he would not besmirch her memory by falling in love with another woman.

Amage could see his thoughts play out on his face. He was no longer hiding himself from her. While she couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, she knew that he had no intention of dishonoring his dead wife. For some reason, he and Aine had connected. His wife would not want him to live the rest of his life alone.

Amage took Sebbi's hand, and looked him right in the eye. "Your wife loved you. Do you really think she would want you to wander the earth alone for the rest of your days?"

Sebbi's face was a canvas of pain. He had not had to recall his wife's reaction to anything for so long. He wanted to believe Amage, but what did she know of it? She didn't know his wife. But, then he remembered. Her smile. Her spirit. Yes, she had loved him. Would she hate him, if she could see him now? No. But, it was clear Aine felt nothing toward him but annoyance at his behavior. It was quite pointless, even considering...

"Go talk to her." Amage urged, gently guiding him to his feet.

He didn't even ask her whom she meant. The woman was a genius. There was no other explanation. He gave her a swift hug, and left her tent. He would do as she suggested.

Amage watched the Saxon go. So much hurt. So much confusion. He had kept that in for far too long. Yet, still...why had she even bothered? Helping Sebbi would have no impact on her tribe. She should concentrate on what was important.

Babai. Why was he behaving in this fashion? Over the years, she had seen him change from the man she was so passionate about, to the removed and reserved Romanized male that he was now. Why had he changed? He used to be so much more sensitive to her needs, now it was all about him. It was the same after the sun had gone down, and Habren was fast asleep. Before, his hands had excited her, primed her. Now, he simply had his way with her. Whenever Amage had tried to resume some sort of control, he had pulled away in anger. It was no wonder they only had two children. Babai would probably contend that their lack of offspring was because of her lack of obedience to him.

Babai sat on top of the hill, overlooking his village. They would be laughing at him now. His wife, stupid woman, had kicked him out of his own tent! Why had she changed so much? She would never have done something like this when they had first been married. Ever since Lancelot was taken, she had become more distant. Now, when he had returned, she had become even more so. What was wrong with the woman? Whenever he tried to touch her, she turned him away. He couldn't remember the last time that they had properly made love. She wouldn't let him into her head; she wouldn't let him into her heart. He couldn't find a way to break down those walls. He had tried. He had tried for years. After quite some time, he tried to simply annoy her. He tried to get any reaction he could out of her. Now, she hated him for it. Life was not what people said it was. Life was what you made of it. They had not made much for fifteen years.

The sun was setting, and the tribe gathered together. After such an eventful day, they could not wait to see what the evening brought.


	6. Chapter 6: The Wedding Part I

**Ok. Sorry for not updating for an ENTIRE WEEK, but I was sorting out emotional issues. I realized how much of a hypocrite I was. I knew I was something of a hypocrite before, but the level of hypocrisy stunned me, I will admit. I felt physically ill. So, I have been trying to figure out how to fix that. I still haven't figured it out, but at least I tried. This is all for now, I'll try to update later today if I can. Thanks for the reviews, I lave you all!**

The circle was broken. The Sarmatian tribe's people sat on one side of the fire, while the outsiders (with Habren and Amage) sat on the other. Never had there been such a division at a wedding feast. Sera looked about, nervously. She didn't want to ruin Lancelot's life. She didn't want his people to look down upon him. She could have sworn that Amage gave her a reassuring smile, before she stood.

Amage gazed at her people, sitting so far away from her. Amage was not used to this. Usually, she was the one to distance herself. They were behaving just like Babai! She had already performed the rights, though only the couples and their friends had looked happy about it. Babai wasn't there. Amage was ashamed that this saddened her. She should be happy, really. Babai was not as he once was. He didn't love her any more. It was time to move on. To move forward. Life would continue.

Argimpasa looked on at the foreign women in disgust. How could they wear such a thing? Had they no shame? She looked to that Sebbi fellow, the one who had offended her in such an unforgivable manner. He was casting nervous glances at the sullen Woad woman with no sense of propriety. How could Sebbi be interested in an unfeminine uncivilized freak, and not herself? How could he resist her?

Sebbi couldn't understand why Aine was behaving this way. He had gone back to the tent, not bothering to call out. When he entered, he found, to his shock, Aine preparing for the wedding. Needless to say, Aine was not pleased. But he had apologized! He hadn't meant to look at her naked! And besides, the clothing she was wearing now didn't conceal much, anyway, what was all the fuss about? He had wanted to talk to her, but she shouted at him until he had been chased out of the tent. No, it did not appear that Aine was receptive to his feelings. Amage had been nice to talk to him, but she didn't know Aine. Aine often times appeared far too cold for comfort. But, Sebbi knew she was full of life. On the rare occasion that she laughed, her spirit shone for all to see. Perhaps that was why she tried to hide it. Aine was beautiful in a way many women will never be. She was not the most beautiful woman in the world, but she certainly wasn't the ugliest. Yet, that was her shell. Inside, Aine held life. Sebbi hadn't seen that for quite some time, and he clung to it. He knew she had no love for him, yet he refused to let her go. He couldn't.

Tabiti glared at the Woad in Tristan's lap. The Sarmatian was looking at this _creature_ like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was no such thing. Her daughter Avesta was much more attractive, not to mention that she had wider hips. Better for bearing sons. These young men didn't know much. She mentioned her thoughts on the subject to her neighbor, not bothering to keep her voice low. If they heard, what of it? It would do them good to listen to sense.

Habren studied the group around her. This was not going well. While Gawain and Radha couldn't care less about the tribe's opinion, Sera was looking a bit uneasy. Lancelot didn't care what the tribe thought. He loved Sera. They had bonded quickly, under rather unusual circumstances. Often, such bonds proved to be deeper than roots to a home you hadn't seen for fifteen years. This was how it was for Lancelot. Besides, he didn't intend on staying, anyway. Habren was twenty now, and wanted what Lancelot and Sera had. She wanted what her parents had once had. She didn't want to live out the rest of her days alone. At the very least, she could go with Lancelot. She would earn her keep. She had no wish to be a burden on anyone, but if she didn't escape, this life would swallow her.

Amage finally spoke. "Who wishes to bless the newlyweds?" she asked. Utter silence followed. No one stepped forward. No one even moved. Suddenly, Amage felt a shifting of the air, and found Babai, her husband right behind her.

Babai found it difficult to explain, even to himself, why he was behaving as he was. In all honesty, he had nothing against his new daughter in law. He had argued against the marriage because Amage was for it. Amage didn't see him when she wasn't in a flaming temper with him. He was invisible. He would not be invisible any longer. She had been pushing him away for fifteen years. That would not continue. He stared right back into the eyes of the woman who concealed so much, and saw shock, hurt, and most surprising, a flicker of hope. Babai looked away. He would dissect her meaning later.

Babai strode over to his only son, and taking his head in his hands, kissed his forehead. He repeated this gesture on his very surprised daughter in law. Lancelot gave him a look that showed clear admiration and thanks. Sera would have an easier time, knowing that his father didn't hate her.

His eyes scanned the Sarmatians.

"Why will no one step forward?" he asked, incredulously. "My son has been married, yet no one wishes to bless them?"

Tabiti stood. Babai was obviously mad, just like that lunatic wife of his. "I will not bless such an abomination. We need all the men we have, and to waste a perfectly good one on a foreigner is complete madness."

Rebekah had been listening from her highly prized seat on Tristan's lap. Really, the last remark had gone too far. She slid from her comfortable seat, disentangling Tristan's arms from around her waist.

"One might say that our tribe is wasting Sera on a foreigner. But we don't believe that. Your sons have been killing my people for hundreds of years. Yet, here is Sera, taking one of your own for the rest of her life. You should be happy. We have done our part, I suggest you do yours." She said, in a rather annoyed manner. Really, couldn't they see that they weren't the only ones making concessions?

Tabiti and Rebekah had a glaring match until Tabiti finally looked away. She hated to admit it, but the slut had a point.

Slowly, conversations started amongst the tribe. It wasn't as loud as it normally was, but Amage was beginning to count her blessings. Some even began moving closer to the other side of the fire. Some of Lancelot's old friends came forward. They had only recently returned, and had been quickly married. There were so few...They had thought Lancelot would never come back. They found seats close to the happy couple and settled in for the duration of the feast, their wives following a bit reluctantly.

Lancelot asked them how things were, he did not recall having a fighting force to check out newcomers before, there must be something wrong.

"Bandits." Said one of his friends, darkly.

Damn. He should have guessed. With the Empire crumbling, they would not be protecting their people from the bandits any longer.

"Their leader was once a member of the Roman army. Like us."

That was distressing news. It meant that he had survived for fifteen years of never ending battle. He would know how to handle himself with many weapons.

"Have they come here?" asked Lancelot.

"No, but they have struck our neighbors. They will come for us sometime, we just don't know when." Said his friend, in a rather defeated manner.

Lancelot nodded, but said nothing. Well, perhaps the bandits would pass them by, it wasn't as though they had much of any value. Except the women. Men who never settled down sometimes desired some...comfort. Sometimes, they didn't need the promise of monetary things to attack a village. He looked to his sister. She was a pretty little thing. She would not be missed. But, then again, his mother would have taught her how to fight. She might be able to defend herself.

Babai took a seat next to Amage. They didn't look at each other. They feigned interest in what everyone else was saying around them. After a while, talk of bandits just began to depress them and they turned away. It was another staring match. They had not really spoken to each other for quite a while.

"How have you been for the last fifteen years?" asked Babai.

It was a rather shocking question, one that Amage had not expected. She blinked, and was surprised to find tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't cry, especially in front of the tribe. Babai knew this, and gently pulled her away, back to their tent. He was not supposed to be here, but he could only hope she would forget. He sat down in a chair, cradling Amage as she cried. She needed this. It had been too long since she had allowed herself to cry.

Amage hadn't been asked how she was for years. No one really cared enough to ask. Babai hadn't asked since Lancelot had left. Had he been the one to change? Was she the one who had pulled away? Or had they both? She cried into his tunic.

"It's been hell without you for all these years, Babai." She said, quietly.

He nodded. It hadn't been any better for him.


	7. Chapter 7:Wedding Part II

**Hi, sorry I haven't updated. School sucks. Far too much studying involved. That, and they make us give speeches about which color best describes us. Who cares? Honestly!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter five, I'm sorry I didn't thank you in the last chapter, but I didn't have time. Sorry!**

**Realtfarraige**- Sebbi's timing sucks. I think it's a guy thing...

**Camreyn**- Yey! Long review! You will just have to wait and see. It would ruin the story to tell you all that!

**Nianko**- I do believe that that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you! Update your stories soon, and remember... being philosophical can be an excellent thing.

* * *

Lancelot absently traced the lines of Sera's palm, and continued his conversation with his old friends.

"Kuto, what do these bandits do?" he asked.

His friend Kuto sighed. "It's very strange...They rarely kill. Somehow, they sneak something into the village's food, everyone becomes unconscious. They take everything of value, and leave. We don't even know how many there are."

Lancelot briefly glanced at the food in front of him, but quickly opened his mouth, ready to ask more questions. Sera beat him to it.

"Do they ever take hostages?" she asked.

Lancelot's friends (not to mention their wives) were startled by the sudden use of her vocal chords. Lancelot smiled at her, glad that she wasn't hiding any more.

Kuto recovered. "No. Not to my knowledge. It only makes them more strange. We have never seen anything like this before. We don't know how to fight this."

He shook his head slightly, defeat etched in his features. His wife, Rozhanitsa, quietly slid a hand up his back, comforting silently. Lancelot was glad that Kuto had found someone who understood his moods so well. Perhaps the marriage had not been strictly for procreation. Lancelot turned to Sera, a slight smile on his lips. He had found someone too.

* * *

Galahad would ask her that night. Everything was going nicely. Yet, Deirdre was so intimidated by these women. It confused him. Deirdre was usually so self-confident, now she practically trembled when they glared at her. That had to be fixed. She would be trembling for a different reason. He abruptly grabbed her waist, and pulled her onto his lap, stifling her gasp of surprise with his mouth.

The women who had been glaring at Deirdre looked on in shock. They couldn't compete with that! Already the woman was wearing that _outfit_, and now it appeared that the knight saw no one but her.

Galahad pulled away, and began to kiss Deirdre's jaw, working his way up to her ear.

"I love you." He whispered.

Deirdre hadn't been sure of herself lately. Love made room for much self-doubt. Now, the words and actions of Galahad had chased the doubt away, hopefully for good. She didn't even bother to see the women's reactions. She nestled her head into his neck, taking in his scent.

"I love you too."

Lancelot and Sera were usually the ones to openly share such intimacy with the general public (well, one would suppose Gawain and Radha had their moments...) so it was completely out of character for Deirdre and Galahad to have been kissing with such passion only a moment before. It made Rebekah want to grin, but she pushed the urge away, and turned to Tristan. He was sneaking lust filled glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking. He still hadn't learned that he wasn't the only observant one.

* * *

She still wasn't talking to him. She wasn't even looking at him. She was simply glaring sullenly off into the distance, fists clenching and unclenching. This was not a good sign. Finally, in an act of desperation, Sebbi grabbed her arm. She turned her glaring eyes upon his hand, and quickly flicked them up to his face. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? Why wouldn't he just leave to give Argimpasa a tumble?

She was working very hard to get over her infatuation, and he wasn't helping her overly much when he insisted on being in such close proximity. She could hear him breath, twitch, sigh. It was too much. She had to leave, wedding or no wedding. She wrenched her arm free from Sebbi's grip, and left the celebration. She needed some Sebbi free air.

* * *

Babai kissed Amage's temple as she stroked the stubble on his jaw. He could feel her breath on his face, his neck. It was becoming irregular, uncontrolled. He kissed her neck experimentally, wondering if she would still accept him in her affections and her bed after such arguing and anger.

Neglect.

Amage in took air sharply as his mouth moved lower, kissing her collarbone. It had always been her weak spot, and he remembered that. It had been a long time since he had tried it. She brought her hands up and tangled them in his graying hair. Pulled him closer. Tentatively, she brought his mouth to hers, nearly moaning at the memories it evoked.

_Their first night together. Under the stars, far away from the village. They had snuck out with their weapons handy, just in case. It was summer, the grass was lush and green, springing under their feet, and later their backs. They were blissfully naïve, holding hands, laughing. The moon was full, the stars were out. Babai hesitantly pulled her closer, dragging her down. He pushed away her shawl, and removed his shirt. He gazed at her, at the dress that still enveloped her form. He brought his hand to her neck, stroking it gently, feeling her pulse under his thumb. He leaned forward, and kissed her neck, working his way to her collarbone. Amage gasped as the shock and pleasure that this action brought. He smiled at her reaction, and dispensed with the dress..._

Amage was brought back sharply to the present by Babai's hands, running up and down her torso. She knew he was thinking about that night too. He picked her up, and brought her to their bed. It had grown quite large over the years, as they added more and more distance between them. He suspected it would become remarkably smaller very soon.

* * *

Habren was bored. She had wished the happy couples well, and had nothing else to do. The visitors all seemed wrapped up in each other, and her friends were too busy sending lusty stares at the new Sarmatian males. She glanced about, looking for anything to distract her from this tedium. She settled upon the hill overlooking the village.

There was someone there. It was too dark to make out what it was, but it definitely wasn't supposed to be there. As if it could feel her eyes upon it, it disappeared into the night. Habren shook her head. Perhaps she was just seeing things.

The figure on the hill turned, and walked away from the loud village. He was uneasy, worried that she had seen him. He had been watching her for a long time, never approaching. This was the closest he had ever been to her, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was no longer invisible to her.

Papay had been the leader of the bandits for over a year. He had seen many women, but none like her. The old ways were dying out, few women bothered to learn the art of battle. He watched her practice, her every move deadly. It was one of the most erotic spectacles he had ever seen, the lone woman controlling such forceful movement, such aggression.

After hitting the last village two months ago, his band had come here, expecting a quick job. It was not to be. They had arrived near morning and set up camp just out of sight of the village. He was going to send his men out to put the herbs in the communal cook pot, but the sight of the lone woman, braid whipping in the wind had stopped him. And so, two months later, here they were. The bandits were getting restless. They had never gone for so long without some sort of payoff. Yet, they had been glad for the chance to laze a bit. They found their leaders obsession amusing, and enjoyed plotting ways of luring her to his tent. Some took these thoughts too far, and had been quickly silenced by Papay's death filled glare. The laughter stopped abruptly, but was soon started up again. Nothing could control their lewd humor for long.

They had served Rome for fifteen years. They had returned home, expecting welcome, and received none. Their people had turned their backs on them, ashamed that they had been at the beck and call of their enemy for such a period. Their village was tucked away, and had rarely been called to protect Rome. Often, several generations went by before the next younglings were called. They were the first boys to be taken in fifty years, and all the old cavalrymen were dead and gone. No one bothered to remember that their ancestors had suffered the same fate. That it was not their choice. So, they made a new life, a life to spite their people. They had seen enough death, and knew their herbs. They lived a merry existence, the bitterness only creeping in occasionally.

Yet, their was a sense of loss, a sense that something was missing. Papay knew what was missing now.

**

* * *

**

**Please review! I got three reviews for the last chapter, and felt rather forlorn! Let me know your thoughts on Papay, and does anyone know what kind of animal was on Lancelot's amulet? Please????**


	8. Chapter 8: Wedding Nights and Meetings

**Yea! I got reviews! Keep them coming! This is a big MRC Chapter. If you don't like MRC, I'm sorry. I simply couldn't help myself; I was in such a good mood.**

**MonDieu666**- We all missed you (and your updates!) Thanks for reviewing!

**When Fire Meets Ice**- That is so nice! I'm glad you like Papay.

**A.K. Anomynous**- Thanks!

**Nianko**- It did help! You updated! Hurray!

**Galasriniel**- (I love your new name!) Thanks for the review!

**Camlann**- You shall see...te he he! (it even rhymes!)

**BillieLiv**- Thanks!

**Tomb Raider X**- Thanks for reviewing!

**Camreyn**- Yes! Long review! I love your reviews! Galahad is gaining confidence. You mind reader, you!

**Notes- **

**Lancelot's pendant- I got three different possibilities, but I like the wolf one best. I don't know, wolves are just cool (Not that dragons aren't, I was born in the year of the dragon. It was a good year...grins)**

Names- Don't worry if you can't pronounce some of these, neither can I. The Sarmatians didn't exactly leave us lists of baby names, so I had to steal some from kings and queens and Gods. If anyone is offended, I apologize. I was a bit nervous stealing the god's names, so if I don't update for a month, it is because I have been struck down by lightning. Don't worry.

It was dark. The feast had just finished, and the village was meandering to their various tents. Some gave the newlyweds lewd grins before turning away.

Radha didn't see what all the fuss was about. It was not the first occasion that she and Gawain had made love. Yet, Gawain was feeling romantic. Without warning, he swept her off her feet, and carried her back to their tent. Radha protested.

"I can walk just fine, you dolt!" she said.

"I know. It's the principle of the thing, dearest. Tradition, you know."

It wasn't too bad, being carried about. No need to break with tradition, right?

Gawain deposited Radha on their cot. He turned from her, and made sure the tent flap was securely fastened before joining her on the bed. She was still wearing her battle garments, which he found to be overwhelmingly sexy. He told her this, and she laughed. There was that element of fun that she found so endearing in him. Her head was thrown back, and he took this as an invitation to feast on her throat. He could feel the satisfied vibrations in her throat and grinned. Radha liked to pretend to be indifferent to emotion. She wasn't. All one had to do was strategically break down her wall, and her passion would come flooding out. Her hands snaked out; her fingers winding their way through his main of braids, holding his head were it was. If he stopped she would scream.

Lancelot had always wanted to help women. He made it his mission in life to help women out of their clothes. Now, he would relegate such services to one woman for the rest of his life. Yet, this was not a depressing thought. It was actually kind of nice. He didn't have to worry about pleasing everyone anymore. He just had to worry about pleasing her. Which he proceeded to do. Sera was happy that they had set up their tent a distance away from the others. She did not want to hear about the various sighs/groans/screams that came from their tent for the next week. Rebekah could be rather wicked when she set her mind to it.

They lay in a tangled heap long afterward. Wrapped in the silence, in each other. They were home.

Aine was apparently asleep when Sebbi entered the tent. She was no longer dressed in her Woad clothes, but had wrapped herself in a large tunic. He watched her chest rise and fall. Could hear her soft breath. Without even being conscious, she was a torment to him. He couldn't help himself. He settled himself down next to her, and threw a careless arm around her waist.

Aine stared at the insides of her eyelids. She was awake. She had been awake for a long time. She had felt the change in the air, the shift of the cot. The warm flesh wrapped around her. He had pulled her back to his chest, and Aine could hear his heart beat. Her own increased.

Sebbi noticed the slight change in her rhythm, and was puzzled. Was she dreaming? Experimentally, he placed a kiss on the nape of her neck. If she were truly asleep, she would never know. Her skin was hot against his lips, and he heard a slight gasp escape Aine. He tugged the loose tunic off her shoulder, leaving it exposed. The cool air stung, but his lips made her skin burn. She couldn't stop the moan from escaping. Sebbi turned her towards him. He stared into her eyes, trying to see her thoughts. Was she simply reacting, or did she want this?

She leaned forward and brought her lips to his. She rolled him over onto his back, straddling him. Aine rested her elbows on either side of his head and deepened the kiss, feeling his tongue flick over her swollen lips. He slipped his hands under her tunic, and reversed their positions.

Deirdre was sprawled over Galahad, completely exhausted. She smiled down at him, and was rewarded with a kiss.

"Marry me?" he asked, as he regained the use of his tongue.

Deirdre was startled, and collapsed on Galahad's chest, making him laugh. When she was in control of her movements, she kissed him.

"Yes."

Habren was on her back, body stretched out over the hill, looking up at the stars. Babai and Amage had disappeared into their tent, and she had no desire to walk in on potential lovemaking. As much as she loved her parents, she could live a full and complete life without seeing them naked.

She would ask Lancelot tomorrow about going with him, back to Britain. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She wondered how her parents would react. They needed some time to figure out their problems now, and she would visit. She didn't intend to desert them forever.

Habren took another deep breath, and noticed a change in the air. A new scent. She had noticed it during her morning exercises for the past few weeks. She couldn't quite place it. Yet, it reminded her a bit of her mother's herb collection. It was more sensual though, more powerful. Whenever she looked about for the source of the scent, it vanished. Just like the figure that had been on this very hill during the wedding feast. Her eyes snapped open.

He was there. Black hair tied back, gazing at her. He saw her eyes, and locked onto them. A stunned silence followed.

Who was he? What was he doing here? Habren reached for her sword, and found that she had left it in the tent.

So, this was she. The moonlight shown down, leaving her form in a harsh contrasting dark and light. Half of her face illuminated, the other hidden in shadow. Her curly hair was out of its confining braid and streamed down her back. He couldn't see what color her eyes were in the dark. She looked slightly wary, but not terrified. That was good.

He took a step toward her, and stopped, gauging her reaction. She had drawn herself up to her elbows, and then to her feet, ready to attack or defend, whichever proved necessary.

In the blink of an eye, he had grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her into a kiss.

Habren was too stunned to attack him. No one had even approached her in such a manner. Her hands automatically ran up his arms, coming to rest at the base of his neck. She didn't know why she didn't just pull away. Run off. Instead, she was encouraging him. She didn't even know who he was.

Papay deepened the kiss, eager to feel her more, to be closer. His hands were running up and down her back, making her skin burn. Her fingers at the nape of his neck, lacing through his hair, were driving him over the edge. For a moment, he considered dragging her to the ground and taking her right then and there. He quickly dismissed this idea. She was special. She was different. She would know who he was.

Suddenly, Habren's ear picked up familiar voices. Her parents were looking for her. She managed to pull herself away, succumbing to one last frenzied kiss before running back down the hill. She turned back, searching, but he was gone.

Review Please! I love reviews! Reviews are nearly as good as chocolate! They make me update faster!


	9. Chapter 9: The Amulet

**Yeah, lots of reviews! I feel loved! Keep it coming! I am now addicted, you've created a monster**!

**A.K. Anomynous**- Making out is **excellent!**

**TJ-** You shall see...tee hee hee!

**Veronica**- Indeed! Thanks!

**Realtfarraige**- I don't think **anything** would stop a woman from lusting after the knights. It's a natural reaction.

**Camreyn**- I love your long reviews! Pirates are sexy. Thank you for your appeal to the Gods on my behalf. It is much appreciated!

**Mustang Gal**- Thanks!

**MonDieu666**- Do you really want to be asking **me** what's lame? Would I really know? ( I mean, come on...I know "the hustle")

**Goss**- Okay, here's some for you!

**When Fire Meets Ice**- I'll see what I can do about kicking Papay's ass at some point.

**Dazzler420**- Ah, the romance!

**Shallindra**- Yes, but then it takes me ten chapters to cover what I can in one. And people get bored. And I get bored. And people stop reading it. I like writing the ensemble stories, as it helps me get themes across better. I'm sorry you don't like it; I'll try harder to make the chapters longer.

**Callista Silverheart**- I'm sorry, I hope you are feeling better now! Thanks!

**Camlann**- I was in a sensual mood, and had no chocolate. This was my only outlet, as all of the guys in my school act like complete morons. I can only hope college raises their maturity level. Knowing my luck, it won't!

**Some people were curious as to why Habren and Papay randomly start making out. First off, it would be kind of awkward to say, "Hi, you don't know me, but I think you're a fox." That generally doesn't work well. I also wanted to demonstrate their sexual attraction. I think it came across very clearly. That, and that would just be awesome. But, whatever.**

* * *

'What just happened?' Habren asked herself over and over again. This was not rational behavior. You didn't just go up to someone and start kissing them. Who was it? She had never seen him before; he wasn't part of the village. He was close to Lancelot's age; it was hard to tell in the dark. But he had felt good. Very good. His scent was intoxicating. She had the urge to return to the hill to see if he was still there, but her mother was suspicious already. She curled up on her side, facing the wall of the tent. She didn't want anyone to see her smile.

* * *

Tristan lay awake, holding Rebekah close, stroking her back, soothing. He had succeeded in getting her out of her battle gear, though he had the nagging suspicion that she hadn't given much of a fight. Now, her eyes were closed, nearly purring. He loved making her purr. The Woad paint on both of their cheeks was beginning to smear, but she was beautiful anyway.

As much as he dreaded having to sit through his mother talking at him, at least Rebekah would be there to soften the blow. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he remembered. Perhaps not. He wondered how his father had lasted all these years, silently. He wondered if he ever got a moment of peace. Well, maybe he was seeing so action, what with the bandits everyone kept talking about. It would break up the monotony. He had never really understood his parents' relationship, and that had always bothered him. He was used to being to classify everything and leave it at that, but some people could not be classified. And they were the ones that seemed to matter the most.

Rebekah shifted slightly in her sleep, her legs twining with his. Her content smile widened. She was having a very good dream.

* * *

Papay walked back into the bandit camp. He had gone out to the hill, as he did every night, to make sure she was all right, and there she was. He had not really intended for their first meeting to progress in that fashion. Not that he was upset with the outcome, but he felt some basic introductions could have been made. But, then again, how do you walk up to someone and say, 'My name is Papay, what's yours? You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, may I kiss you with great passion now?' No, that was not how it was supposed to work. Somehow, their interaction had felt right. He liked the feeling of her fingers threading through his hair. She had a different scent, one that he wanted to smell again. He loved the taste of her. She had been startled at first, but quickly relaxed, urging him on. He wanted her.

His fellow bandits looked sleepily in his direction as he entered the camp. He was usually back before now, what had kept him? His hair was drawn back, but was oddly rumpled, as if someone had played with it. He looked strangely out of focus, like the first time he had seen that wench on the hill...was that it? Some of the men had obviously put two and two together, and grinned mischievously. While some could not add properly and came up with three, they all got the general gist of what had occurred.

"How was it? Did you leave her whimpering?" asked his second in command, Afsati.

Papay glared at him. "That is none of your business. I'm going to bed."

Papay left the circle to the sound of catcalls. Really, sometimes they acted like children. He couldn't sleep. He wanted to see her again. His mind began to churn out ideas for various ways to accomplish this. He could approach her during her morning exercises, but she was so close to the village. Wild ideas of slipping her the herb and abducting her flashed through his mind, but he quickly decided against it. She probably would not appreciate such methods. He could hope that she came to the hill alone again. He could not enter the village. That much was set in stone. He would be spotted immediately and that would put his men in danger.

His band was exceedingly small, as apposed to the rumors that he had a hundred men at his beck and call. In his line of work, there was no such thing as strength in numbers. They needed to move quickly and silently. You couldn't slip herbs into a village with a hundred men behind you. In reality, there were only three others besides himself. Afsati, Magovey, and Angi. They had no need for a new addition, though he would not object to the woman warming his bed. He was attracted to her nature. So few women bothered to learn how to fight any longer. She was intelligent enough to know that they lived in dangerous times, and she would probably need to defend herself and others at some point. She had good reflexes. He wished she had cause to smile more, though. He had never seen her smile. She looked so lost at times; he longed to show her the way out. Someday, he would.

* * *

Argimpasa stared at the ceiling of her tent, completely forlorn. She had no future. There were no options. She would exist and then die. She would never live. She would never be happy. As a little girl, she had always dreamed of her prince charming, coming to take her away to the glorious palace in the clouds. She was still waiting. Prince Charming was _very_ late. She had long since given up any hope that he was coming at all. She studied her body. She was curvy, attractive, why did no one else see that? Her mother had always told her that her body would bring her the life she had always wanted, yet here she was, alone. Had her mother lied? She was not around to ask anymore.

* * *

Lancelot reached for something in his satchel, and brought out the amulet his sister had given him so long ago. He slipped it over Sera's head, where it came to rest between her breasts. She gazed down at it in shock. Lancelot had been fingering this amulet since she had met him, though he'd never shown it to her before. Now, she saw that it was a wolf. It was rather fitting. Lancelot was a wolf (in sheep's clothing...sorry, couldn't resist) in spirit, and in mind. He looked after his own. For all his charm, he was ever watchful. He was not the empty-headed idiot that some assumed he was. He had treasured this, and now he had given it to her. It was the greatest wedding present Sera could imagine.

Lancelot leaned forward, kissing the soft flesh surrounding the amulet. She would wear it from now on. Perhaps the tribe would leave her alone. Besides, now she could carry a piece of him around with her.

"Thank you." She said, quietly. She rolled him over onto his back, and kissed him.

* * *

Aine awoke to find her legs wrapped around a very content looking Sebbi. It hadn't been a dream after all. He didn't think she was unfeminine. Oh, happy day! Sebbi saw that she was awake, and pulled her in for a long 'good morning' kiss. There was something to be said about waking up with a man in your be, Aine decided. Whenever she had slept with men before, it was never for a night. She found that she actually liked the cuddling. No need to tell the world this, however. She had a reputation to maintain.

* * *

Dawn saw Habren already practicing. She couldn't sleep, and desperately needed something to take her mind off the nameless stranger who had disrupted her life in such a forceful manner. She was alone, wondering what she was supposed to do about her handsome admirer when she heard a whistle coming from over the hill.

What was making that sound? She frowned, and went to investigate, weapon at the ready. As she crossed over the crest of the hill, a figure stepped out of the shadows, and pulled her further down the hill, out of sight of the village. Habren let out a gasp of indignation, but instantly recognized the hair, and felt the urge to run her fingers through it again. Just as she was about to, he caught her hands in his.

"I am Papay." Good, that was out of the way.

"Habren."

It was a beautiful name. It fit her. He had seen her practice, and couldn't resist luring her here. In the light of the sun, he could now see that her eyes were a deep brown. Sweat was beading at her brow, but it did nothing to dull her beauty. If anything, it enhanced his attraction. Still, the mysterious scent lingered around her. He would figure out what it was.

"Who are you?" she asked, and his grey eyes once again fixed on hers.

"Many things." He said, vaguely, kissing the palm of her right hand.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking at you." He said, kissing the other.

"Can you not answer a question properly?" she asked, exasperated.

"It depends on the question." He replied, calmly. Inside, he was grinning. This was so easy!

With a groan of annoyance, she jumped up, latching her arms around his neck, and kissed him. If he wanted to be like that...what did she care? He wasn't the only one who could torment.

Papay was startled, but caught her hips, holding her up. Her legs silkily wrapped around his waist. He lazily traced her lips with his tongue. They were delicious. Habren was very aware of her heartbeat, as it pounded in her ears. Again, she was forced to admit to herself that none of this made sense. She was usually a very levelheaded person. She did not simply jump on strangers and kiss them. Yet, he was not a stranger. They had exchanged few words, but she felt as if she knew him.

Eventually, they ended up on the ground, Habren in Papay's lap. Conversation came surprisingly easily. They spoke of her village, though Papay was oddly silent on the subject of his. Habren let him question her though. He had some interesting insight to some of her neighbors. He seemed to know them, and their habits. It was a bit unsettling at first, but eventually, it was as if he was a member of the tribe.

"My brother, Lancelot came home yesterday." She said.

"From where?" he asked, curious.

"Britain. He was sent there by Rome. This was the first time I've seen him for fifteen years."

"And you welcomed him?" he asked, incredulously.

"Of course! What did you think we would do?" she asked, confused.

"Good. He's gone through hell."

She could not get him to speak any longer on the subject. Instead, she told him of the marriages that had taken place the night before.

"So, he married a Briton, did he?"

"Yes. They mentioned something about fighting in a limited skirmish of some sort...something about Saxons. Yet, I found it odd, they have a Saxon traveling with them. He's part of Aine's band."

"So, he's a smart man. Chose a woman who could defend herself. Too many ninnies in this world, if you ask me. I'd like to meet these people." As soon as the last sentence was out of his mouth, he regretted it instantly. It certainly would be interesting to talk to these people, but it was impossible. Now, she would want to know why he couldn't come. He didn't know what she would do with that particular information. He wasn't a violent man, he never hurt anyone, but most people had a problem with thieves. One of those "moral issues" whatever that meant.

Habren was not an idiot. She noticed his silences, when he looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. He was uncomfortable mentioning anything about his occupation or his home. He hadn't told her why he was here. Yet, he had obviously been here for some time. There had been bandit attacks against her neighbors, but none to her village. She found that to be very suspicious. His clothing wasn't completely ragged, like everyone else she knew. He didn't like talking about Rome, either. And that scent...it reminded her of the herb that her mother used to slip into her paternal grandmother's soup when she got too annoying. Habren had a nagging suspicion about who Papay really was, but if he didn't wish to tell her, he would eventually.

She didn't press the matter, to Papay's rather obvious relief.

"Have you ever fought anyone?" he asked.

"I've fought my mother, but otherwise no. There hasn't been any cause."

It was midday, and her parents would be wondering where she was. She had to get back. She disentangled her limbs from Papay's and stood up. He quickly joined her. He wrapped his arms around her, unwilling to let her go.

"You'll come tonight?" he asked.

"Yes." How could she not?

She kissed him goodbye, though this took longer than originally anticipated. When she finally managed to free her lips, she smiled and ran down the hill, back to her village.

All in all, it hadn't been a bad morning, Papay decided.

**Review Please! I'll be your bestest friend forever!**


	10. Chapter 10: Blood and Discovery

**Okay, a lot less reviews. I'll live. **

**Realtfarraige**- It did happen rather fast, but hen, so did the woads and the knights.

**Mustang Gal**- Of course you are! Need you ask?

**Nianko**- That's all right, because you updated! Thanks!

**Camreyn**- Intoxicating indeed! You will have to wait and see what horrors I have in store for all of my wonderful and happy characters. Muh, hah, hah!

**Veronica**- Okay. Thanks!

**MonDieu666**- I guess we're both dorks. Dorks rule! Thanks! You updated, yey!

Blood. Everywhere. Its coppery taste flowed through her mouth, trickling down her chin. She could smell the death in the air. They were all dead. All of them. She was dying. There would be no more sunsets, no more kisses, no more smiles. The sun was blinding her, tears streaming down her bloody and bruised face. Life wasn't supposed to be like this.

They had struck early, when the tribe was gathering for their communal breakfast. No one was expecting the attack. Few had weapons. She certainly hadn't. They had sliced people to ribbons, children clutching their mothers' hands. Husbands, protecting their wives. Elders, who could barely hobble. These were not soldiers. All dead now, but for her. She would be joining them soon.

She had begged, but they had not listened. She had scratched, kicked, and clawed at them, but they just hit her. They had ripped up her skirt, touching her, pounding into her, laughing at her shrieks. Then, they had slashed at her. The blood flowed from everywhere, between her legs, her nose, her chest.

The light was getting stronger now, she cried harder. She couldn't see! She couldn't see! It was getting harder to breathe, her frantic gasps punctuating the silence. She could hear voices all around her, people yelling in her head. She begged them to stop; they were giving her a headache. Why wouldn't they leave her be?

Her body stilled. She could no longer see, no longer breathe. Her life was gone, taken by men with mad eyes, evil intent. And no one would ever know.

Habren had been doing a lot of thinking. She loved Papay, yes, but what would the future hold? While he had not admitted who he was, if Habren's suspicions were correct, there was no room for a wife. Habren didn't know why he had stayed so long, but he couldn't afford to stay here forever. He could be discovered, his men could rebel. It was far too risky. She wouldn't let him stay and be caught. It would be her fault, and she couldn't stand it. Lancelot was beginning to get restless, and the other knights wanted to see their families. They would be leaving soon. Habren would go with them. Papay didn't need to know. It was best for all involved if he was ignorant of that little detail.

Rebekah was getting bored. It wasn't that she didn't like Lancelot's village, it was simply that Tristan was away on patrol so often, and Sera and Aine were wrapped up in their own little worlds. It wasn't that she blamed them, but she quickly tired of herself all by her lonesome. She wished they would hurry up and go to the next village.

Though he made no sound, Rebekah knew he was there. Not even bothering to turn around, she asked,

"Any trouble?"

"No."

He came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, pushing her hair to the side, kissing her neck. It was good to be back. Patrol had been exceedingly dull, and next time he was definitely dragging Rebekah along with him. The want, the need, of another human was a new emotion for Tristan, and he disliked being separated from this strange addiction.

His breath was warm on her neck, and she grinned. They had an hour or two before they would be missed.

She was married. Radha didn't feel any different than before. She still loved Gawain, he still loved her. They had a deep bond before, marriage had not changed it. Now, as she tugged at his braids, she wondered how his family would react. More specifically, the deranged uncle he had mentioned earlier. She grazed her palm over her flat belly, and made a mental note to keep him away. No need to be taking chances.

Gawain was devising ways in which to dispose of his uncle. He couldn't quite figure out were to stash the body. Radha tensed up whenever he was mentioned, and Gawain had no intention of letting her be berated for her sex, especially not when she was carrying his child. She would have his full protection. He could only hope his mother didn't tell Radha about that one time, at that one place, when that thing happened...it would be far too embarrassing. He was not usually a self-conscious man, and he quickly hid his discomfort. She really didn't need to know.

Galahad and Deirdre had spent a lot of time in bed. (Or cot, whichever phrase suits the situation best...) Deirdre was beginning to behave as she usually did, not allowing the women of the tribe to bother her. They didn't matter to Galahad, and they certainly didn't matter to her. Galahad couldn't be happier to have the old Deirdre back. He had missed her. They would be leaving for his village soon.

Sera was asleep, slicked with sweat. Lancelot grinned down at her, glad that marriage had not dulled his undeniable skill. He wanted to be alone for a bit, get his thoughts in order. He was trying to find a way to tell his mother about his plans for departure, but couldn't think of a way that didn't involve him being slapped upside the head. He headed for the hill overlooking the village. It had always been a calming place in his childhood, and he could only hope that it still provided the same serenity.

Habren was being crushed into the grass, her breath coming in gasps whenever she could get them. Papay's mouth was hot and seductive against hers, sending shockwaves through her body. Fire was spreading from her belly, leaving nothing untouched. She had laced her fingers through his hair again, pleasing them both.

He still hadn't figured out her scent, and that drove him on, his mind whirling. He knew the scent, he just couldn't place it, it was rather maddening. They saw each other whenever Habren could slip away. Contrary to his men's belief, they had not yet made love, nor did they spend all of their time kissing. His thirst for her could never be quenched. Her conversation, not just her body.

When Lancelot reached the crest of the hill, he began to hear odd noises. Gasps and moans that sounded very human. He was about to make his hasty departure, when he caught sight of the couple. Was that his _sister_? _And who was that **on top** of his sister_?

Yes, this was certainly awkward. His first reaction was to pull him off her, and beat him to a bloody pulp, whoever he was. And, who was he? Men were scarce, he must be married. _Damn. Can't tell mother that. _Lancelot finally came to the conclusion that nothing good could come of him beating up the nameless fellow currently trying to suck his sister's tongue out of her mouth. She wouldn't thank him. She appeared to be enjoying herself immensely. The man's wife would wonder if he came hobbling home, and Habren could be shunned. He quietly made his way back to his tent, Sera still sleeping soundly, a grin on her face. He would take her with him when they left. It was the only solution. She could find her own man, and this fellow would forget all about her.

Habren was making her way home, when her brother stopped her. He pulled her aside.

"Would you like to come with us when we leave?" he asked, quietly. He was expecting a quick refusal.

"Yes." She said simply, giving him a bit of a shock. This wasn't supposed to be so easy. He had rehearsed this conversation several times in his head, and she had never been convinced without threats and blackmail.

"We leave in the morning." He said shortly, and turned to go speak with his mother. He touched a hand to his head, hoping he would leave her tent unscathed.

His mother took this new surprisingly easily as well. What was with these people? They were supposed to argue with him! It was rather unnerving!

Aine and Sebbi were on patrol. There wasn't really a need. The bandits appeared to have gotten bored of the life, and hadn't stuck a village in months. There was never any disturbance. All that could be done was to examine ones nails and talk.

For the first time, Sebbi spoke openly of his homeland. He had been vague before, not wanting to talk about his late wife. Now, he told Aine about Cynwise. She listened quietly, and pulled him into his arms for comfort once he had finished. That had not been easy for him. Who knew that such an apparently happy person carried all of that around with him? She would help him bear the load.

Habren was alone in the tent. She would go to him tonight. It would be the last time that they would be together. She would make it count. She didn't want to leave, but knew that she must. Sometimes, life was simply not fair.

As night fell, Lancelot saw his sister slip out of her tent, heading towards the hill. No one followed her. What was going on? It was really none of his business. They would be leaving tomorrow, and that would be the end of it. He could let her have one last night with whoever this was. Sera jumped on his back, surprising him. He carried her back to their tent, laughing. So, she wanted to play, did she?

Habren was on the other side of the hill, looking about. Where was he? He always seemed to appear by magic whenever she came. And, sure enough, she caught that seductive scent. Turning around, she saw him. Her breath caught in her throat, as he overwhelmed her senses.

Papay strode towards her. She always looked beautiful by moonlight. They never seemed to have enough time together. He pulled her to him, and kissed her. She was more passionate than usual, almost aggressive. She brought his hands to the back of her dress, giving him permission to remove it. He stared down at her, wondering what had caused this abrupt decision. Not that he was complaining. He wanted her. She apparently wanted him. The world was a happy place again. He complied, and gently settled her on the cool grass, and her hands strayed to his tunic. It was quickly disposed of, and skin met skin for the first time. Control was becoming difficult for Papay, but he forced himself to go slowly. Habren wouldn't have had much experience in this area. He kept his hands slow, kisses trailing over her body.

They held each other for a long time afterwards. Habren's head was thrown back, a smile on her face. It was the first time she had ever smiled in his presence, and Papay reveled in it. It was more beautiful than he had ever imagined. He was glad that he had given her something to smile about.

It was at times like this that it was very difficult for Habren to imagine leaving him tomorrow morning. She knew it was for the best, but this had felt so good! Why couldn't they just stay here forever?

Her parents would be looking for her soon. She had to go. She rolled Papay off her, letting his hands explore her body a bit more before reaching for her dress. She would give him as much as she could before she left. When she went to stand up, he protested, dragging her back down on top of him. Habren sighed as he nibbled at her neck. This was not making her departure any easier.

"Don't go. Not yet." He whispered in her ear. Oh, how much she wanted to obey!

She kissed him, one last time. He would move on. He would forget. He would find someone else. A tear rolled down her cheek, landing softly in his dark hair. She had to go now, before she lost her nerve.

"I love you." She said, quietly. She rolled off him, and ran down the hill, back to her tent. She would never see him again.

Papay stared at the bloodstained grass. Something was wrong. He would bet his life on it.

**Please Review! I'll love you forever!**


	11. Chapter 11: Home and Herbs

**Keep the reviews coming people! I love you all! Virtual chocolate for everyone!**

**Mustang Gal**- I feel so loved! Thanks!

**MonDieu666**- Butterflies-ooh! I think she has more of a man than a boy...

**Veronica**- Thanks!

**ChiaraStorm**- You updated! I jumped for joy. That is quite a picture; you might want to block the imagination there.

**A.K. Anomynous**- That's okay, I understand. I like Habren/Papay too.

**Artemis de Luna**- Though you probably won't see this: Yey! A new reviewer! I'm so Happy!

**Camreyn**- You will have to wait and see...hint: I never write future tenses, and when I write flashbacks, they are in italics...I often dream about Lancelot's skills... yum...Everyone wants to play with Lancelot.

**BillieLiv**- Thanks! Update "the apprentice" You'll be my extra special friend forever!

**Nianko**- If you're writing something great, I'll totally forgive you for not updating for a while. Thanks!

* * *

Habren was riding away from her home. She had insisted that they leave early, before the rest of the tribe was up. The others were confused, but agreed. Habren didn't want to chance Papay seeing her. He would not be pleased.

She remembered how it felt, his hands roaming, his body pressed into hers, his lips ravaging her throat. She wanted to turn back, but knew that she couldn't. There was no future.

Lancelot sensed her mood, and left her alone. She needed some time to settle her thoughts.

They rode for a week, setting up tents at night, sharing meals. Habren sat removed from the rest of the group. There were people all around her, but she had never felt so alone. The rest of the party had someone to cuddle with, and Habren gathered a blanket closer around her, wishing very much that it would morph into a particular human with black hair and piercing grey eyes. This, however, did not occur. She could never get warm enough. Sometimes, she thought she caught that scent, but then it was gone, and she knew she had imagined it.

Lancelot worried about his sister. This was for her own good, she would thank him later. Now, however, she looked ill, withdrawn. The others noticed her behavior, but left her alone. It was really none of their business. If Lancelot wasn't doing anything, there was a reason for it.

* * *

Papay rolled over on his cot, waking up from a _very_ good dream. The world was beautiful, was it not? Yes, life was good. He would go see Habren when she came to the hill for weapons practice. It was early yet, but he could wait. Perhaps she hadn't been able to sleep either.

When he reached the top of the hill, he beheld a scene that sent a chill to his very heart. Habren's retreating back. She was leaving. Why? Had he done something wrong? Had she figured out who he was? Had she not liked his hands on her any longer?

Papay came to a decision. He would have an explanation.

He ran back to camp, rousing his men. They grumbled at him, in a manner that suggested that they did not appreciate the early wakeup call. They stopped when they saw the expression on their leader's face.

"Habren has decided to leave, and not tell me where she is going. I am going to follow her. You have no obligation to come." He said, shortly.

"Do you really think we'd allow you to go out in public without a keeper?" asked Afsati, incredulously. Did he really expect them to desert him? They did not become bandits for the gold. They were friends, first and foremost. If Papay had finally found himself a wench, they would track her down. They had seen the change in him. When he had come back from her, he was not the sullen unhappy castoff of his tribe. He was a man, and a happy one at that.

"Really, who's acting more like the bandit now, you or her? She's the one riding off with something of yours!" added Angi.

It was true.

Well, at least his men were coming with him. They would have to be careful. Habren was running from him, and she wouldn't appreciate being followed. They would have to move right away. This was not much a problem. They had been living like this for about a year, and had learned to be ready to leave at a moments notice. They rode after their quarry, keeping a safe distance.

* * *

Tristan and Rebekah were both on edge. They were being followed. They didn't want to alarm the others, not when they had no evidence of this. All they had was a stab of intuition. Rebekah looked hard at Habren. Why had she agreed to come? Lancelot would say nothing on the subject. She didn't want to pry, but something was distinctly odd about the situation.

That night, Rebekah asked Tristan to braid her hair again. Rebekah only asked this when she felt a fight coming on. The braids kept her hair from impeding her vision. Tristan was not all that surprised by the request. He could feel it too. As he manipulated her hair, he noticed how tense all of her muscles were. She thought she could hide these things from him, but it was a futile effort. Once he had secured the last braid, he set to work at loosening her up a bit. Her muscles sang in the morning.

* * *

They arrived at the village without incident, much to the surprise of Tristan and Rebekah. The air hummed with tension, yet no one had approached them in a violent way. They had not found out who was tracking them.

The travelers were welcomed with open arms. Gawain's uncle didn't look too happy, but he decided to voice his opinion later. Unnatural female creatures.

* * *

Habren stuck out as the only visitor without anyone in her tent. The unattached men of the village took notice, much to the displeasure and thanks of Lancelot. He could never decide which emotion was more strong. Yes, he wanted her to find an unattached man, but he still couldn't push away the "older brother" protective instincts. He didn't like the thoughts going through the men's minds. He was all too aware that he had these same thoughts all the time. (NOT FOR HABREN! GET YOUR HEADS OUT OF THE GUTTER! EWW!) It was not comforting knowledge. There were far too many scoundrels like himself in the world.

Gawain's parents were so happy to have their son home, they didn't care that he had married someone that they didn't even know. She was pretty enough, she made him happy.

If Galahad's family felt any regrets about their son wishing to marry a foreigner, they hid it well, as they all crushed her in a group embrace. She was so happy that they didn't hate her, she nearly cried. Galahad smiled. Yes, Deirdre would be fine here.

Gawain and Galahad's village had not had the same ratio imbalance of male to female. The Romans had not drawn quite so heavily here, and there was not much competition for mates. Of this, the Woads were very grateful, though Rebekah thought she would have welcomed the opportunity to beat someone senseless, if such an opportunity presented itself. She hadn't done any fighting for quite some time; her skills were probably getting rusty.

* * *

Habren went to her tent. She needed to get ready for the welcoming feast, and had nothing special to wear. No one would notice, anyway. At least, no one that she wished to notice her. She was not blind to the lusty eyes of the males that had seen her arrive. She was suddenly tired. Her cot looked particularly inviting. Perhaps, just a small nap...

* * *

Papay watched the village from a safe distance, memorizing where Habren's tent was. He would need to be able to find it in the dark. He had felt a bit guilty, slipping it into her water skin as she slept, but quickly dismissed the emotion. She was the one who left him, without any explanation. She was the one who should feel guilty. When the others were at the feast, he would slip into her tent, and bring her back to his. She would awake soon after. Ten, she would have some explaining to do.

Angi, Magovey, and Afsati secretly found the situation hilariously funny. If he thought this wench wouldn't be in a flaming temper with him when she woke up in his bed, he had obviously gone off the deep end. He had so much to learn about women.

These bandits were unlike any others. They didn't steal because they enjoyed it. They stole to eat. They didn't use violence against anyone who posed no threat to them. And, to be quite honest, they were enjoying this little quest. Most would have deserted or killed such a leader by now. Instead, they patted his head, and told him not to worry in their most condescending voice. Papay was so distracted that he rarely registered how amused they were with his predicament.

* * *

Everyone prepared for the feast. The Woads donned their usual wedding garb, much to the pleasure of their male companions. Deirdre didn't want to be the only one showing off so much skin. It would surely shock the locals.

When night fell, the village gathered around the fire for the welcoming/wedding feast. Galahad and Deirdre had been married, and they would be celebrating that marriage, as well as Gawain and Radha's, rather belatedly.

Gawain tried to maneuver Radha so that they didn't have to sit anywhere near his inflammatory uncle. Fate could be rather fickle. He ended up between the love of his life, and the uncle from hell.

The uncle glared at Radha continually for over an hour before speaking. Radha coolly ignored him, speaking instead to Gawain and his mother. She was told a rather charming tale of Gawain in diapers. It involved said diaper falling off, and a stray dog dragging it about. Little Gawain toddled after the dog completely sans clothes, as the entire village paused to laugh. Gawain tried to stop the woman, but he remembered that one often couldn't reason with one's mother. It never ended well.

At least the tale has some purpose. He had never seen her laugh this much, and was glad that she could indeed find something amusing, even if it was at his own expense.

"So, how'd you seduce my nephew?" asked the demonic uncle, breaking up the laughter. Silence immediately followed. The tribe looked at Radha, waiting for her reaction. How would she handle this?

"It wasn't terribly difficult. You should really talk to him about that." Said Radha, calmly.

The tribe smiled. Gawain joined them. Radha hadn't yelled, screamed, or castrated him yet. It was quite an accomplishment.

Lancelot smiled too, and looked about. Where was Habren?

* * *

Papay heard the laughter, happy to have noise to cover his movements. It would not do for him to be caught now. He weaved through the maze of tents, stopping outside the tent that swam in her unique scent. He pushed the tent flap aside, and his eyes fixed on the figure on the cot. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. A fresh wave of laughter reminded him that his time was limited. He could dwell on her demeanor later. He gently wrapped her blanket around her and picked her up. She moaned into his neck, startling him. The herb was wearing off. He had to get her back to his tent before she woke and threw a fit. It wouldn't help him remain hidden.

He made it back without incident. His men followed him with their eyes, curious just how he expected to control her anger when she awoke.

She was still fast asleep. It would take a bit more time for the herbs to wear off. He lay down on his cot, snuggling her into his arms. He had a feeling that she would not be feeling quite so mild when she awoke, and feared that he had angered the dragon a bit too much.

He hadn't slept well for a week, and his eyes were feeling heavy. He settled his head into her chest, and her unconscious fingers laced though his hair, pulling him closer. He sighed, and let his eyes close.

* * *

**Review, and I'll give you virtual chocolate chip cookies. (How can you say no to virtual chocolate chip cookies?)**


	12. Chapter 12: Awakenings

**Okay, I wrote a different story. It's called Vashti, and yes it's in the bible section. It isn't actually a religious work, and deals mostly with abuse. It is rated R, so it is rather disturbing. I would like to know how it is, however, so if you could let me know, that would be awesome. Also, if you would review this story, that would be cool.**

**HgandRHrforever**- I'm so happy you liked it! Yey, a new MRC devote! I feel so loved! Hope you like this chapter.

**Dazzler420**- Yes, I don't think many of us would be entirely pleased about being drugged and kidnapped. Though, I might not mind it as much if it were Papay...

**Candice**- Yes, it certainly will be interesting to see Tristan and Rebekah get married. They are quite a pair.

**ElvenStar5**- It's been a while! Thanks for reviewing! If Papay ever wants to father children, he knows where to come...(ME!!!)

**Mustang Gal**- Cookies are yummy.

**Galasriniel**- I don't know if I've said this yet, but I love your name! I'm sorry you've been grounded, you have my sympathy. Chocolate!

* * *

Habren was feeling a bit groggy. She really shouldn't have taken that nap. What if she had missed the feast? Lancelot would not be pleased. Yet, her fingers were entwined in something silky, something was resting on her chest. What was going on? She opened her eyes, and nearly shrieked. This was a bad dream. She was really in her own tent, in her own bed, very much alone, and would awaken soon. Papay had not drugged and kidnapped her. It was so easy to lie to one's self, but Habren was forced to admit the truth. She was seriously angry right now.

She disentangled her fingers from his hair, and pushed his head off her chest. His eyes snapped open, fixing on her glowering ones. This was not going according to plan. He was supposed to be the first one conscious. She was supposed to be happy to see him. She did not look particularly pleased.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice edged with menace.

"Why did you leave?" he countered, not impressed by her attempt at intimidation.

"I asked you first." It was a rather juvenile reply, but it suited Habren's purposes nicely.

"I followed you to find out why you left. No warning, no good-bye... you didn't really expect me to simply let you go, did you?" he said, moving his face closer to hers.

"Did you really expect me to appreciate you drugging and kidnapping me?" she asked, dangerously.

"No. I want to know why you left. The actual reason, not another question." He replied calmly. Why did she have to look so beautiful when she was angry? It was rather distracting.

He did deserve an explanation, even if he had been completely out of line, as of late.

"You would have been caught eventually. I couldn't let that happen. You were supposed to move on." Her irritation was apparent. Why couldn't he have just simply forgotten her? It would have made life so much simpler.

"You know what I am?" he asked, quietly.

"I figured it out, and what has just occurred confirms it. Why?"

Papay told her of their return to their village, the rejection. They had made new lives after that, finding ways to feed and clothe themselves. Life had been very simple until a few months ago, when they arrived at Habren's village.

"We stayed. We didn't really need anything else, and I couldn't stop watching you."

"Why?"

"Because I love you." He said simply.

She was a bit taken aback by this. She had assumed that she was simply the wench of the hour, and he really didn't care about her all that much. While she didn't appreciate his methods, she was glad he was there. It was very hard to deny emotion when he was right in front of her. She couldn't pretend that he meant nothing to her anymore.

She pressed her lips to his, not caring about the consequences any longer. The more she worried about it, the more things went wrong. He returned the kiss and pinned her to the cot. Her hands ran down his back, and she pulled her lips away.

"Next time, don't drug me. It just makes me mad."

He nodded, and captured her mouth again. He would have agreed to anything at that point. He hadn't had her in a week. A week seemed like a very long time. Clothes fell to the floor, and their bodies were one. They knew each others' bodies better now, and this time there was no pain, only pleasure for Habren. There was no blood this time.

Sometime later, Habren sat up quickly. Lancelot! He would be looking for her! She reached for her dress, but Papay caught her hand, looking at her questioningly. They were together again, what could she possibly be worried about?

"My brother will be looking for me." She said, urgently.

She had no discipline where he was concerned. When his hands were on her, all logic fled. She knew she had to go, and could only hope he would let her before he overcame her with his touch.

"The feast isn't over, we can still hear them. We have a bit of time left, there's no rush." He said, and she relaxed.

"All right, but I have to leave when it finishes. I'll tell him I was ill. It's partially true." She said, accusingly.

He felt slightly guilty at that. "It was the only way..." he said, rather lamely.

"Don't do it again." She said, firmly.

She leaned over him, curly hair spilling over her shoulder, brushing his face. He wrapped his fingers in the curls, and gently pulled her head down, meeting her lips with his. It was good to be back.

Papay helped Habren get back into her dress. It took quite a bit longer than usual, and by the time it was finally on properly, Habren's lips were swollen.

"I have to go."

He nodded, and kissed her again.

"Come back when you can. Make it soon. You won't be leaving without telling me again, will you?"

"I'll come." She said, deliberately not answering the question.

Papay let it go, knowing he could follow her if he needed to. He managed to keep his hands to himself, though it was a hard battle.

* * *

Habren made it back to her tent just in time. She had just settled down on her cot, when Lancelot strode in.

"Where were you?" he asked, looking about the tent, as if he expected to see signs of an illicit tryst.

"I'm not feeling well." Said Habren, smiling feebly.

Lancelot didn't believe her, but could find no proof of anything else occurring. He was also forced to admit that he really shouldn't be so obsessive about all of this. Habren was a big girl. She could look after herself. If she was having a bit of fun, could he really blame her? He wasn't exactly chaste. He bid her goodnight, and went to his own tent. Sera was there, in the process of removing her wedding garb. Lancelot, fulfilling his vow as husband, gamely assisted her in her endeavor. He whispered suggestively in her ear, and Sera's eyes widened. She allowed herself to be carried over to the cot, and decided that this wife business wasn't so bad.

* * *

As Tristan helped Rebekah out of her outfit, he saw the tension in her muscles that seemed ever present nowadays. He could feel something wasn't right, too.

"Relax. When it comes, it will come. We can't do anything about it now." He said, smoothing his hands over her back. Rebekah took a deep breath, and tried to smile. He smothered her effort, kissing her. She really shouldn't try to pretend for him. He could always tell when she was hiding something.

He took her hand, pulling her over to the cot. He eased her onto her back, kissing all the places she liked best. He succeeded in distracting her, and for a while, her muscles slackened in exhaustion. Living on the edge took lots of energy. She let her eyes close. Tristan lay awake, stroking her back. He had learned how to control his anxiety over the years, she was still searching for techniques. He would show her some.

* * *

Deirdre blew out a sigh of relief when she and Galahad finally made it back to their tent. Galahad's family was very much like him, but more outgoing. They were happy to have a new daughter; they simply couldn't stop expressing their emotions. Galahad grinned, glad to know that he wasn't the only one who could be so overwhelmed by his family. They were a lovely group, to be sure, but they could be rather tiring after a while. Deirdre grinned back, and kissed him. Yes, the real Deirdre was back!

* * *

Wacilla observed the carnage in front of him. He didn't flinch at the sight of the grass drenched in blood, the children's toys given a new coat of red paint. He was immune to feelings now. He had been for some time. People could hurt you; you had to shield yourself from them. He made his living off of the bloodstained gold, possessions. He made them pay for what they did to him. Made them pay every time. See how they liked the pain, liked the fear.

He sneered at the other groups of bandits. They had gone soft. Not even lifting a sword, leaving money for people who needed it. What did they know of loss? Nothing. But they would. That idiot, Papay, hadn't attacked a village in months. He was a shame to bandits everywhere, and would be dealt with soon enough. Wacilla heard a great many things. He had spies everywhere, villagers he had spared. Word had it that Papay had found himself a mistress. A pretty little thing at that. He would have to pay her a visit. It was only proper, after all, that he should come to pay his respects.

Wacilla, knelt next to a young woman, throat slashed. In her hand, she clutched an amulet. From a sweetheart, from the looks of it, he thought smirking. He took the amulet from her dead hand, and tucked it into his pocket. Papay's woman would like the gift.

* * *

**REVIEW! IT WILL KEEP ME SANE! (AND MAKE ME UPDATE FASTER DURING THE WEEK!)**


	13. Chapter 13:Grins and Smirks

_I have decided reviews are even **better** than chocolate. Camreyn, observant and wonderful reviewer that she is, pointed out something that had been nagging me, but I couldn't figure out. Character interaction. The knights haven't really talked to each other the entire story. Yes, they talk at meal times and while traveling, but I never bothered to write out their conversations. That was what was missing. I'm so glad this was brought to my attention! I suppose we could pass that up as the honeymoon period, but oh well. I will try to improve that. So, if something is bothering you about the story, **tell me** I've probably been sensing it as well, but it's so much easier to have an objective outsider look at situations. Thanks Camreyn!_

**MonDieu666**- Oh, don't worry. He most certainly won't be getting off "Scot free."

**Nianko**- Now! I hope whatever you are writing is going well; I can't wait to read it!

**Camreyn**- See above paragraph. Yes, Sera has an excellent deal. Now you kind of know more about the massacre two chapters ago. We'll have some more fun with Wacilla later, I promise! The likelihood of Tristan having siblings is very high. However, the massacred village was simply a random village, not to worry for Tristan's relations (or do you?)

**Elvenstar5**- Papay is sexy.

**Dazzler420**- You shall see...tee hee hee...

**A.K. Anomynous**- I suppose... everyone deserves virtual chocolate chip cookies!

**When Fire Meets Ice**- I was so excited with Papay because he's semi evil but not really. This makes for a very sexy character. Go Papay!

**HgandRHrforever**- You will just have to wait and see about Papay...

**Note- What do we find so magnetic about Papay? Is it his beautiful hair? Please advise.**

Afsati wondered why he had awoken so happy that morning. It wasn't that he was a perpetually unhappy individual; it was simply that he wasn't exactly a morning person. Then, he remembered. He could inspect Papay's face for scratch marks from Habren's nails. He had never met Habren, but had heard much about her personality from Papay. She was not the type to take abduction lightly.

Much to his surprise, Papay did not appear to have been harmed by the past nights events at all. There was something distinctly amiss with their brave and fearless leader's hair, however. Generally, Papay kept his hair tied back without ornamentation. Now, there was a nice pretty pink bow tied around his ponytail. He did not appear to have noticed this however, and went about his business as usual. Angi and Magovey had woken, and sniggered to each other at the sight of their leader. Papay could no longer ignore the situation.

"What is it? Did Afsati forget to pull up his trousers again?" he asked in annoyance.

"No." responded Afsati, grinning broadly, "I haven't done that in ages. Your lady fair appears to have left you a lovers token."

Papay looked bewildered, and Magovey tugged at the ribbon. Papay, pulled the offending material out of his hair, and scowled at it. Instead of throwing it on the ground as expected, he tied it around his wrist. Her scent still lingered on it; he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it.

It was at this point that the bandits realized exactly how far over the edge their leader had gone. Yes, there was no getting around it. Papay had gone all mushy. It almost made them sad; before they remembered how much fun they would have at his expense. Chuckling as a unit, the bandits sat down to breakfast, wondering what more fun the day would bring.

The Sarmatian knights, the Woads (and Sebbi) gathered for a communal breakfast. Habren was remarkably absent, though Lancelot assured them that Habren was fine, just tired. In reality, Lancelot had no idea where she was, and decided that he probably didn't want to know.

Rebekah settled herself down between Galahad and Gawain. They had all been so wrapped up in their own lives; it was time to catch up.

"So, how have you been treating my girls?" she asked primly.

The "girls" grinned but said nothing. Rebekah would have her fun.

Galahad looked stricken for a moment, forgetting where he was. He was trying to forget his encounter with Deirdre's parents, and Rebekah had sounded so much like them.

"I am treating her _very_ well, as I am sure she will attest." Said Gawain.

"Will I?" asked Radha, innocently.

Gawain just looked at her, and she stared back, a grin making a belated appearance.

Rebekah was feeling restless. She was no longer content teasing Gawain and Galahad, and moved on to stalk new prey. Her eyes landed on Lancelot, but she didn't grin this time. He was worried about his sister. He tried to hide it, but he was. Why? When Rebekah had seen Habren, she always seemed slightly removed from the situation, as though she wished to be anywhere but where she was. She appeared harmless. Yet, she herself had sensed something amiss. It was making her very nervous, not knowing. Rebekah liked being informed. She sat herself down next to Lancelot, and gave him a hug. He looked like he could use one. Sera smiled at her, happy someone else was trying to make him feel better. Rebekah, unlike other women, was not a threat, at least not in this way.

Lancelot grinned, and pulled both Rebekah and Sera onto his lap. He would distract himself from his troubles for a time. He needed a good laugh. Bors was not around, so making him the brunt of all the jokes was not really an option. Lancelot was shocked to find that he missed the old brute. Not to mention Vanora...or at least using Vanora to get to Bors. They were going to have to get themselves back to that cursed island before they all died of broken heart. If that was indeed possible.

"Lancelot, I told you...Rebekah and I are _just_ friends now. We don't _do_ that sort of thing anymore." Said Sera in a rather patronizing voice.

Everyone laughed, though Tristan merely grinned. He swiftly removed Rebekah from Lancelot's lap and settled her onto his. While he knew Lancelot and Rebekah enjoyed being the flirt, he felt an odd territorial urge possess him.

Lancelot nodded to Rebekah. "Anytime you get bored of Tristan, you can come with me and Sera, dear. We'd show you a good time."

"I'll keep it in mind." Said Rebekah, seriously. "Though he has been paying me much more attention since he let his hawk go."

Yes, the hawk was gone. She had served Tristan well, and he wished her to live out the rest of her life as free as he was. Tristan had watched her fly away with a mixture of sadness and relief. He had never felt right enslaving another creature. The hawk had been good company, but she deserved her own life.

Gawain looked seriously down at his friend Galahad. "So, you keeping our Deirdre happy?"

Deirdre smiled, and kissed Galahad's cheek. "Of course he is. I would tell him if situations were otherwise. I'm so glad you are taking a healthy interest in our intimate life, Gawain."

"I only wish I could do more, my lady."

Both Deirdre and Radha hit him at this remark. He could have his fun, but they were always there to keep him in line. Galahad couldn't resist grinning at his friend's misfortune.

"Aine, will you be excited to see Guinevere again?" asked Rebekah.

Aine honestly hadn't given her younger sister much thought over the last few weeks. She was now Queen of all Britain. It was an odd thought. "I think we would all like to see home again." She said, instead.

They all suddenly realized where home lay for them. Yes, these villages had bred them, and loved them for the early part of their lives. But in reality, they had spent the majority of their lives in Britain. They had grown up there. Even Sebbi, who was born, raised, and until very recently had lived as a Saxon, saw himself as a Britain. It was truly a country of diverse citizens. Romans had integrated with the natives, forming a mixed race. Rome had stationed knights from all over the world in Britain, and many had stayed. They would build their own Empire, one of their own making.

Habren left her tent, on the look out for her brother all the way. While there was absolutely no way he could stop her from going, she knew that her behavior confused and worried him. She preferred that it did neither.

She wondered if Papay had found her parting gift, and grinned. She was not one to let a man off the hook for a kiss. Oh, no. Besides, his men might not hate her now. She had given them a laugh at the expense of their commander, men tended to be more welcoming when you gave them such a gift.

When she neared the bandit tents, she was intercepted by a man who appeared to be in his early thirties. He had dark hair and twinkling green eyes.

"Would you be Habren?" he asked.

"Yes." She said, "and who might you be?"

"Afsati at your service, my lady." He said bowing low. When his eyes were level with hers again, he said, "I must say, that was a fine gift that you left our leader. I've never seen him cry before. It was quite touching."

"The pleasure was all mine. Is he here?" she asked, smiling at this happy fellow. She liked him.

"He'll have heard you by now. Probably just being sullen about it." He said loudly, so that the whole bandit camp could hear.

"Really?" she asked. It wasn't that she didn't understand, she simply felt that Afsati deserved more of an opportunity to speak his mind.

"He's probably gazing at his pretty hair again. It's all he ever does when you're not around."

He led her through the encampment, until they reached Papay's tent. Afsati pushed the tent flap aside, without even bothering to announce he was there. Papay didn't look terribly surprised. Afsati did this all the time. He had long since learned to listen for his heavy footsteps. Afsati gave Habren one last grin, and made his departure, whistling all the way.

"My second in command." Said Papay, rather derisively.

"Is there really a need of a second in command? There are only four tents here." Asked Habren, a bit confused.

"Actually, there was a need. Afsati likes to feel needed. This was the only way I could get him to stick around."

"I like him."

"So do I."

Habren crossed the tent, and his wrist caught her attention. Ah, so he had found her little present. It had been in her pocket, and she hadn't been able help herself. The opportunity had been too good to pass up. She traced the ribbon with her index finger, grinning.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"I love it. I'll wear it forever. How did you know, it's what I've always wanted." Said Papay, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Lucky guess." She said, simply.

"What are we going to do." He asked. It had been plaguing his mind for some time. He knew her family was important to her, and he didn't think they would be terribly understanding as to his profession.

"We'll figure something out. If not, I'll run away again." She said, half serious.

"No. You won't." he said firmly, catching her hand and kissing it. He would not allow her to simply run away again. That had not gone according to plan, and as a result of that action, he now had a "pretty bow" around his wrist. He didn't think he could handle another one. He wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her. He would find a way to fix all of this, once he was able to concentrate.

Amage and Babai were still getting used to not having any children around. Not to mention fixing their marriage. It was work, but work that yielded great rewards. Amage looked at least five years younger, even her wrinkles appeared smoother. She was happy, happy that she had someone to talk to, to love. She had missed that. She had retired as village sorceress, and was now solely healing now. She didn't think she could handle the stress anymore. It had hurt more than it helped.

"She'll be fine." Tristan said to Lancelot.

Lancelot had been off in his own little world, and hadn't heard Tristan approaching. He had no idea where Habren was, and he was on edge.

"I'm not worried!" he said, faking a smile.

"Of course you are. She's your sister. Remember, she can look after herself. I don't think she likes your constant hovering." Said Tristan. He didn't usually share his observations so freely, but Lancelot was obviously in need of some direction.

Lancelot just pretended to smile some more, and went back to his tent alone. He didn't want to be around people now.

**I'm sure there was something wrong with this chapter, so tell me! It will be for the greater good, I promise!**


	14. Chapter 14:Flight and Bites

**Thanks for the responses! Feel free to pick apart my writing, I really want to improve!**

**Nianko**- Yeah! You told me what makes Papay sexy! Whoopee! I'm trying to do more with the villages but there is a big problem. The Sarmatians didn't really leave us records of their daily life. Which means I would have to make it all up. I'm sure there are people out there with Sarmatians for ancestors just itching to hire a hit. I like being alive. I wish to offend no one. So, yes, I'm trying to include more, but I only have so much to go on. Thanks so much!

**Camlann**- Thanks! I hate the stories where Lancelot goes completely mushy, and never flirts again. Neutering Lancelot is seriously unfortunate. I'm glad I haven't done so. Thank you again, and I love your story!

**Camreyn**- Thanks for reviewing Vashti, that was so nice of you! I'm glad you liked it. I know **I** miss Bors. He was quite the character. Papay gives Habren a very nice present near the end of the chapter. Have fun! Sorry about the abrupt change of scenes, I was going to separate them, but the edit/preview thing wouldn't let me edit! It's so maddening! You shall see...tee hee hee!

**Mustang Gal**- Thanks!

**MonDieu666**- Thank you! (You updated! Happy dance!)

**HGandRHrforever**- I like showing different relationships. Too often, we assume that there is only one kind of love. I guess I don't buy in to that theory. Thanks for the review!

**A.K. Anomynous**- I thought the ribbon was a nice touch. I really like Afsati too...who knows what I'll end up doing with him? (Well, I suppose I do, and Camreyn will probably figure it out eventually, she always does! I guess I'm pretty predictable!)

**When Fire Meets Ice**- Papay is perhaps one of the only males who can look sexy with a pink ribbon on. Those are my thoughts.

* * *

Wacilla looked about, a scowl on his handsome face. He was surrounded by idiots. They needed "rest" and "a good drink". Fools. If they didn't want this life, he would end it for them without hesitation. All they needed to do was ask. He had the pleasure of helping another on to the next world only just that morning, when the fellow had complained about wanting to see "home" again. Well, Wacilla had followed his request. He would be in the arms of his ancestors now. It had broken the usual tedium of long rides nicely. Wacilla gave the departed soul a silent thanks for the entertainment.

It was good to feel the wind on his face once more. He had been cooped up in his tent for far too long. His hair whipped around in his face, but he just shook his head, grinning in a manner very different from the one he had worn when blood dripped off his sword that morning. He was doing what he did best, hunting down the enemy. For that was what Papay was now. He was shirking his duties, making the rest of them look bad. The villagers' morale was on the rise, and that could not be tolerated. They were half beaten with fear in their hearts. Now, they actually tried to resist. Imagine!

He patted his horse's neck. Though he had never given the horse a name, he was quite fond of him. More so than any human, come to that. He preferred the company of his fine chestnut horse to the wealthiest of kings any day. People tended to get upset when he decapitated the King. If he lost his temper with the horse, no one really cared. It was that simplicity that he craved, desired, and hunted that had proven ever elusive. It was like chasing rainbows, no matter how far you went, you were never any closer to achieving your goal.

He had been hearing much about this "Habren". Some said she was a quiet lass, one who kept to herself. Others said she had a flaming temper. Still others claimed she had a seductive nature, with no lack of charm, or beauty. She was never described the same by any of his spies, and he had quite a few. It had been difficult to find out any information before, but she had holed up in some godforsaken village, where he had a few informants. She rarely attended communal meals, and was ill a shocking percentage of the time. So many secrets. He would figure out each and every one of them at his leisure. She would beg for him in the end.

They were getting closer.

* * *

Deirdre was in another one of her moods. She had suddenly ducked out of evening meal, not even bothering to tell him where she was going. It was becoming a rather suspicious pattern, one that Galahad firmly intended upon figuring out.

He followed her.

She had run away from the village, and was doubled over, throwing up everything she had just eaten. Galahad ran to her, unsure of what was happening. Was she ill? Was she dying? Gods no! When Deirdre saw him, she turned even whiter (if that was possible) and looked ready to run again. Her eyes swept the area, looking for an escape, but Galahad was unwilling to give her one. He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. He saw uncertainty, even fear in her eyes. What had made Deirdre so afraid?

"What's wrong?" he asked her in a firm, yet comforting voice.

Deirdre took a deep breath, trying to find the right way to share this little bit of inconsequential information with her husband. Seeing no alternative, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Galahad, I'm...pregnant. I'm sorry." She said, voice shaking. He wouldn't want children, or hormonal women around.

Galahad looked confused. "Pregnant, why are you sorry?"

It was Deirdre's turn for confusion. "But, you don't want children!"

"I don't?"

"No!"

"I do not recall ever expressing such an opinion. For the record, this makes me very happy, though I wish you would have told me sooner." He said, and promptly bent over to examine her deceptively flat abdomen. It was all starting to make sense now. All her mood swings, self-confidence (or lack thereof). Her absence at mealtimes. He hugged her to him, kissing her stomach.

Once he was on his feet again, he said, "We need to get you to a healer. They'll know what to do."

"Oh, I've already seen one. Habren." She said, dismissively.

"Habren?" asked Galahad, his confusion returning in force. "Habren, as in Habren, the girl who never leaves her tent, whom we've traveled with but not actually spoken to. That Habren?"

"Yes. She's very soothing."

"Is that why she's never around?"

"I have no idea what she gets up to, but she has always been there when I wanted answers. I like her." She said simply. She did. When she had first sought out Habren, she had felt so alone, lost. Habren had calmed her down, even making her laugh at herself. She let her use her tent when she went out for locations unknown. Deirdre had been thankful for an escape. Habren had tried to tell her that Galahad would love to have little ones underfoot, but Deirdre had been too stressed out to listen. Now, she realized Habren had been right.

"Well, I guess I owe her some thanks. Have you given her anything for her work?" he asked.

"No, I think she would be insulted. She does this because she wants to, not for rewards. Though, I suppose we could try getting Lancelot to let her be. I don't think she'd mind that."

Tristan was not the only one to notice how worried Lancelot was becoming. He had been forced into the "big brother" role quickly, and it was not an easy adjustment for him. He never felt quite comfortable in that position.

"Come on, we'll tell my family." Said Galahad, taking her hand.

Deirdre could only imagine what kind of welcoming that news would bring. She hoped the baby would survive the squeeze.

* * *

Rebekah had had enough. On occasions before this, she had allowed her emotions to get the better of her, forcing herself and others into potentially dangerous situations. Now was no exception. She had tried ignoring it, tried reasoning with herself, but nothing had made her forget that nagging suspicion that had lurked in the corner of her mind since leaving Lancelot's village.

She marched up to Habren's tent and called out. There was no answer. Cautiously, Rebekah opened the tent flap, looking about. At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary in this tent. It was clean and neat, in fact, it was _too_ neat. No one kept their living quarters so clean, unless they spent very little time in it, though that did not fit with Habren at all. She supposedly spent most of her time here. And where was she now? Rebekah didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. Habren was up to something. It might be something that would affect them all, but perhaps not. There was no way of knowing. She couldn't just waltz up to Habren and demand answers. She barely knew the girl, and such actions would easily offend.

Rebekah heard footsteps approaching the tent, and silently cursed herself. There was only one way out of the tent, and Habren was now entering it, one eyebrow raised, barely controlled mistrust etched in her features.

"We were looking for you." Said Rebekah, trying to smile, as if this was all going according to plan. As if she hadn't gone through the contents of the entire tent.

"Well, I am here. You needn't worry about me." Said Habren, the dismissal in her voice clear nonetheless.

Rebekah took in the older woman's appearance. It was strange, Rebekah always thought of Habren as being younger, but she was a year older. Her hair had been hastily braided, her dress not adjusted quite right. Ah, there it was. On Habren's neck lay a lover's bite. Habren obviously hadn't noticed this. Well, like brother, like sister. Rebekah needn't worry about this anymore. It was none of her business, and would not bring them into any danger. She could relax. She gave Habren a genuine smile.

"You might want to put a scarf over that." She said, indicating the red flesh in an offhanded manner. "We wouldn't want Lancelot to have kittens, now would we?" she asked, and left a stunned Habren behind.

Habren touched her neck, and found the flesh that had given her away. Papay had felt the need to repay her for the ribbon, it seemed. He could have picked a better spot. While Habren had enjoyed very much the process by which she got such a marking, it was not exactly helpful in concealing her actions. Now Rebekah knew. She didn't know whom, but she knew. Not that Rebekah would tell Lancelot. Rebekah had been cautious around her for some time now, and Habren knew she suspected her of something. Rebekah would think nothing of it now. Perhaps the bite had not been such a bad thing after all. She might have to repay Papay in kind.

* * *

Rebekah was nearly skipping back to her tent. She had been worrying about nothing! She could finally jump Tristan without worrying that this time would be their last. With that in mind, she adjusted her speed, trying to get back to the tent faster. She was not being careful, and ran into Sebbi.

Sebbi didn't look upset about the situation. In fact, Rebekah didn't think she had ever seen Sebbi upset about anything. She smiled at him and apologized for her preoccupation.

"So, Aine treating you all right? She isn't hitting you too hard, is she?" she asked.

"Aine is treating me very well. She can't even bring herself to make a decent threat anymore. She doesn't even want to think about making me a eunuch anymore." Responded Sebbi cheerfully, ever the optimist.

"Oh, I'm glad to see that Aine has finally learned to play nicely with the other children. Tell her I want to talk to her at breakfast." Said Rebekah, and gave Sebbi an impulsive kiss on the cheek. She wanted to kiss everybody! She was so happy!

Tristan didn't look up when she entered the tent, but he could sense the change in her mood, and wondered what could have caused such an abrupt turn around. Rebekah had been tense all week, and now she was floating with every step. He simply stared at her, waiting for her to explain.

She didn't.

Instead, she grabbed a fist full of braids and tugged him to her, and set to work loosening _him_ up.

* * *

**Short update, I know! I wanted to post it though. I also have not gotten many answers to the "What makes Papay sexy?" question. I must know! Is it...**

**A) His pretty bow**

**B) His pretty hair**

**C) His pretty grey eyes**

**D) other**

**Let me know! Then, I can use his sexiness to the nth degree!**

**Also...If people will please review my story, "Vashti" If you don't want to wade through all the stories written by people who simply cannot take a joke, just click on my penname above, and you can access the story from there. No pain. It is rated R, so I completely understand if you don't want to read it.**


	15. Chapter 15: Breakfast

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday. No time!**

**Dazzler420**- that was an inspiring attempt, but no. Papay is mine!

**A.K. Anomynous**- I think it's "thinking out loud" but I could be wrong.

**When Fire Meets Ice**- I agree! And Wacilla is sexy. Psycho, but sexy. I personally would love to see the "sexy villain showdown." Villains in general are sexy.

**Mustang Gal**- His bow **is** pretty hot.

**HGandRHrforever**- I have no idea what fatherhood will do to Galahad. We can only hope that it doesn't kill him.

**Trinity Valyntine**- you are **so** right!

**Tomb Raider X**- Thanks, update soon!

**Camlann**- I read your last chapter, it was very moving! I could just see Tristan staring stonily at a wall, as this little girl is jumping around, singing, and begging for pony rides. It's quite a picture.

**Camreyn**- Yes, I do. And, yes, you generally do figure my plotlines out. Huzzah! I'm sorry, I cannot allow you to rip Wacilla's throat out. Maybe later. I need him right now for a little thing called "plot."

**Note- Wacilla. He is what we would call in these modern days, a psychopath. So, if you think he is acting irrationally, he is. Just thought I'd clear that up.**

Radha was confused. She wasn't showing any of the usual signs of pregnancy. She felt normal. Gawain had been letting her have top lately, not wanting to crush the child. But Radha knew there was no child now. At Deirdre's suggestion, she had gone to see Habren, only to confirm her suspicions.

Amage had been mistaken.

Afsati chuckled at Habren's departing back, knowing how it would affect Papay's mood. And, sure enough, a rather glum figure emerged from his tent, heading for the warmth of the fire. He reached out his hands to warm them, and the bandits saw that he still wore the ribbon.

"So, when are you going to marry the woman?" asked Afsati, with apparent interest.

"I would marry her now, if it were not for that pesky little detail of my profession." Replied Papay in monotone.

"What pesky little detail?" asked Magovey, grinning.

"Hmm...That would make for interesting meal conversation. 'Yes, future father-in-law, I'm a bandit. Yes, I make a very good living.' People don't generally like us, Magovey."

"Why tell her parents?" asked Angi, confused.

"Some people-namely Habren- actually **like** their parents. It's hard to keep insignificant details-like one's marital status- secret from such relations." He said, more annoyed with himself than with his men.

He should have let Habren run from him. He would end up ruining her life. He couldn't stop himself from loving her, touching her, but he wanted her to be happy. She wouldn't be happy without her family, and her family would not accept him. He could not run away from her. He had traveled all over, learning about thousands of herbs and their affects. None could affect him as much as Habren. One could not abandon such a powerful element.

He sighed, knowing that he would follow Habren the rest of his days. It was an inevitable conclusion-he might as well accept it.

Afsati watched his friend struggle with his thoughts. Love confused him. If it was so much bother, why did anyone love in the first place? None of it made sense to Afsati. He had known Papay his entire life, never had he behaved this in way.

Now, he stroked his neck, exposing the reddened flesh beneath his fingers. Habren had felt the need for payback, and he had not resisted. Habren knew how to get to him, knew how to make him gasp. He often returned the favor. He was a flawed individual, but she didn't seem to care. She loved him for it.

Breakfast was always an illuminating meal. You discovered peoples true natures so early in the morning.

Tristan was his usual serene self, irritating Lancelot, who could barely get one eye open. Galahad was humming, much to the annoyance of Gawain. How he could find something to be happy about at this gods-forsaken hour was a mystery to him. Rebekah had managed to get both eyes open, but had not accomplished much. She wanted to talk to Aine, but didn't think she would be able to articulate anything while her mind was still asleep. Deirdre was holding Galahad's hand, looking thoroughly pleased about something. Radha was wide-awake, alert, flashing self-satisfied smirks in Gawain's direction. Sebbi was trying to talk to Aine about some "fascinating" type of butterfly, and she couldn't even summon the energy to hit him. Yes, food would do them all some good. Habren had even come, shocking them all. Yes, today promised to be an interesting day.

Food was passed around, and the group gradually began to awaken. Aine managed to glare at Sebbi, who just grinned. Sera opened her eyes, and managed to raise her head off of Lancelot's shoulder. Gawain sent Radha a suggestive glance, only to have her smack his shoulder. Tristan actually grinned at Lancelot, rendering Lancelot completely speechless. Yes, this day was interesting already. Once everyone was semi-conscious, Deirdre cleared her throat.

"Um...I'm pregnant..." there. It was over and done with.

The Woads looked a bit shocked at first, but quickly smiled, and gave Deirdre lots of hugs. Habren grinned, glad that she had finally told Galahad and her friends. Her eyes inadvertently strayed to Papay's campsite, out of view. She liked these people, she really did, but she couldn't help but wish she were somewhere else.

The knights were a bit stunned. They hadn't thought that the first father among them would be the youngest.

"Galahad, I had no idea this was even possible for you!" teased Lancelot, "This will put Bors's concerns and mine to rest."

Deirdre let out a sigh of relief. She knew Radha wanted a child of her own, and had been worried that she would be upset by the news. Radha had been genuinely happy for her, though her eyes told her that she still wished for the same.

Radha turned to Gawain, and raised an eyebrow. Was he still willing to take her up on that offer he had made earlier. Gawain grinned, and threw Radha over his shoulder, taking her back to their tent.

"Don't worry about us, we'll be ready in time to leave!" he called over his shoulder.

Today, they were leaving for Tristan's village. It was time to move again. They hadn't yet gotten used to this whole "peace" concept yet, and didn't think they ever would. Perhaps parenthood would change that.

The others returned to their tents, to finish their packing. There wasn't much to do, they had all been so ready to leave that most of it had been done last night. They didn't travel with much baggage, anyway.

Habren slipped away from the group, running as fast as she could to the bandit camp. She ran into Papay's tent, catching him in the middle of putting on his tunic. Habren stopped to catch her breath, but was unable to, as Papay had covered her mouth with his with great speed. She managed to tear her lips away for a moment, and Papay moved on to her neck, renewing the bite he had left earlier.

"Papay, we are leaving today." Her voice came out a bit strangled, but he could still understand her words.

His lips stilled, and silence filled the tent.

She had actually told him of her travel plans in advance. It was a miracle. He wouldn't have to travel blind this time.

"I will follow you, if you wish it." He said, wanting to make perfectly certain that that was what she wanted. He cursed himself mentally, knowing that he would not follow her wishes if she told him she never wanted to see him again. Well, he was a bandit, and bandits are not always honest. At least now he appeared to be concerned.

"Oh, I wish it." She whispered. "But I have to leave soon."

"There is always time. We won't be able to have each other until we reach the village. I'll make us some time." He said, and pulled her over to the cot. Habren did not, could not, resist. He brought up the hand attached to her pink ribbon, and ran a finger over her bottom lip. No, resistance was not a possibility.

Wacilla could see the village. He itched to attack, but knew that it was best to bide his time. He would find her soon; there was no need to rush things. Papay's tents were near, though he did not approach. He would get his mistress first, and then go for the Bandit leader. People were generally more cooperative when someone they loved was in danger.

He had ten well-trained cavalrymen at his beck and call. It was not a large number, but that hardly mattered. They managed very well for their purposes. Yes, when darkness fell, he would go to her. Now, however, it was time to rest. He would need his strength for the hours to come. He brushed the hair out of his face, loosening his tunic, removing the weapons from his body. It was a lengthily process, due to the numerous hidden knives and daggers hidden all over his body. He kept the dagger that hung around his neck on at all times. It had saved him on numerous occasions, though you wouldn't know it. It looked so clean, innocent, harmless in its neat little sheathe. On it ran the blood of nearly fifteen men. All had dared to challenge him, meeting a rather sticky end. He clasped the dagger in his left hand, holding it to him. It could not produce warmth, good company, breath, but it was comforting nonetheless. Now, all he needed was this "Habren" creature, and his dreams would be complete. She would provide the warmth, the excitement, the sighs. She would complete this fellowship. If only the rumors were true.

Habren left his tent, after insisting several times that she **really** had to leave now. The bandits smiled knowingly. Habren grinned at them, and kissed them all on the lips.

"I'm sorry you have to follow me around. And on top of that, you have to put up with him all day. You have my sympathy." She said, and ran off, finally ready to leave now.

The men gathered their things. They had known that they would not remain long here. They wondered how long this quest would last. If only Papay would come to his senses and marry the woman. It would make their lives so much simpler.

Wacilla's men were frightened. The target was riding away, yet anyone who dared to disturb their leaders sleep was met with a dagger slashing through their throat. Yet, if he was not alerted to this change, he would not be in the best of moods. Finally, an ambitious young man stepped forward, He would warn his master of this new development. He took a deep breath, every step carefully thought out. The men watched him go with apprehension. He had a nice singing voice, and would be greatly missed.

Review please! Also, if you're into Van Helsing, I have started my parody entitled "The Hairclub for Men" yes, now you will finally know why everyone in that movie had such pretty hair.

**On a sad note, my own personal Papay (well, I guess he wasn't _that_ hot) has been expelled from school. Alas, when someone is intelligent in one area, (i.e. decent conversation) they can be completely stupid in another (yes, lets get expelled, because I'm an idiot!) so, my days are no longer spent in sometimes intelligent and hot company. My heart will go on.**


	16. Chapter 16:Children and Candlelight

**Not many reviews, but I suppose I can forgive you. Something's screwy with the website. My "Hairclub for Men" isn't always accessible through the Van Helsing page anymore, so I haven't gotten any reviews from that. I hate when we have these glitches! It's very hindering. Oh, well...I digress. Please review if you can! This is a rather short update, as I have no time, for reasons unknown to me.**

**Agh! And now it says that no one has reviewed since chapter 12, which they clearly have! What's going on. Well, I'll thank the people who reviewed. Camreyn, MonDieu666, HGandRHrforever, Camlann, and When Fire Meets Ice. I think that was everyone, but I could be wrong. It I am, I am so terribly sorry! Everyone else, I miss you! My heart pines for you! (JK, maybe!)**

Wacilla wiped his beloved dagger on the unfortunate fellow's tunic, and sighed. Why did it always happen this way? Just when they were about to do something big, they had to interrupt his nap. The man probably was trying to kill him anyway. He was now staring up at the ceiling of Wacilla's tent, mouth open in shock. He would never see home again. It wasn't that he felt bad about it. Far from it. He needed to keep his skills, and his blade sharp. No, it was more the interruption. Wacilla had had some of his most brilliant plans fully form in his mind as he slept. No one seemed to understand that.

He went to the basin in the corner of his tent, and carefully wiped the blood from his hands and face. The blood had been warm, fresh, invigorating. He would go find out what had caused the disruption. Setting the bloodied towel aside, he calmly exited his dwelling.

All of his men had gone into their tents, hiding from him. They thought they were clever. They were not. This just made Wacilla more upset. It did not show, though. If anything, Wacilla looked even calmer than he was before.

"Come out, my doves." He said, in a falsely soothing voice. "Why did you send the messenger?"

Slowly, the men crept out of their tents, not wanting to be the first one out in the open. Wacilla was most frightening when he used his sugarcoated voice.

"Why did he come to me?" he asked, softly.

The sacrificial lamb was thrust forward, much to his terror.

"Speak." He commanded.

The man gulped rather obviously, though it would be suicide not to obey a direct order from his master. "Sh...She's...gone." He stuttered.

"Gone." Wacilla repeated, his face a mask of polite interest. "And when did this occur?"

"Nearly an...hour ago." Said the same man, even more nervous now.

Wacilla nodded slowly. "Pack your things. If you are not ready in five minutes, I'll gut you and leave you for the crows." He said, and turned on his heal, back to his tent. It would not take long to pack.

* * *

Everyone seemed to be more protective of Deirdre on this trip. They kept an eye on her as she rode, and would not allow her to help set up camp, or cook. They kept offering to run her errands, until she finally resorted to hitting them all. It was enough to drive one mad! She insisted on helping Galahad set up their tent, and scowled at him when he looked ready to protest.

"I'm pregnant, not maimed." She hissed.

Gawain was having second thoughts about fatherhood if it would mean Radha hissing at him like that. Well, he could always avoid being like Galahad. It wasn't all that difficult for him. Radha had been sad when she found out that she was not indeed pregnant, but they were trying very hard now, which seemed to raise her spirits. It had certainly raised his...

Rebekah was confusing herself. She had never really thought about children. She had always assumed that she would live a life of constant battle, never settling down. Yet, here she was, on foreign soil, soon to be married. Life does not always go as planned. She had never even given much thought to a husband. It simply wasn't a goal. It was time for new priorities, new pastimes. When they returned to Britain, she would still be considered one of the Ladies of Battle, but now it was more of a ceremonial title, they did not have an enemy to fight. Did she want to spend the rest of her days tucked away in a quaint little cottage, running after the little ones? Did it have to be that way? Perhaps they would live near the Wall, close to the King and Queen. Oh, how odd those titles sounded! So alien, so unnatural. Yet, these were her friends.

When they had settled in for the night, Rebekah lay awake, thinking to herself.

"Do you want children, Tristan?" she asked, knowing he was still awake. He never fell asleep before she did, something simply wouldn't allow him to.

Tristan was silent for some time, trying to find the proper thoughts, the proper words. "Someday, I would want them. Right now, we are still adjusting. Later." He said, and pulled her close, feeling her warm flesh mold onto his. In reality, he was terrified of children. Tristan liked to know what he was doing, and he was forced to admit to himself that he knew absolutely nothing about children. He would no longer be able to berate Bors for his performance as caretaker. That would seriously undermine his list of hobbies. He brushed the hair out of Rebekah's face, and kissed her brow. She was asleep already, and would never know.

* * *

Habren was restless. She knew Papay was there, just out of sight, and she itched to run to him. She couldn't sleep. She settled for pacing around her tent, and finally decided she couldn't take it any longer. She would go. Checking the area carefully, she slipped out of the campsite, into the dark. She ran, though she knew it was dangerous. In the dark, you couldn't see changes in ground level, you couldn't see things that would make you trip. Somehow, she made it without breaking any bones, and ran into Papay's tent. His sword was at her throat in an instant, before he realized who it was. Her eyes looked a bit stunned in the candlelight, but then he lowered the sword, and she relaxed.

He didn't ask why she was there, didn't ask if she knew what would happen if she was found to be missing. He knew the answers to both. He pulled her to him, knowing that was what she wanted. She hadn't been the only one pacing. Papay knew there were other threats than their relationship being discovered to fear. There were other Bandits out there, and he didn't know how much help he would be if they decided to attack Habren's group. He had three men behind him. It was not exactly an intimidating number. Sarmatia was a dangerous place at the moment, he wanted her safe.

He comforted silently, hands stroking, lips caressing. She needed sleep, but she needed a sedative first. He remembered her reaction to him slipping her herbs before, and had no intention of repeating the experience. Instead, he went for more...natural remedies. This time, neither had to suffer payback. He blew out the candle, and all went dark.

* * *

Lancelot had decided that he was simply going to close his eyes and ears whenever he felt something amiss with Habren. It was none of his business. It was none of his business. He kept repeating this over and over in his head. His mother wanted grandchildren. Sera was looking wistful whenever she saw Deirdre. Yes, he would have other things to worry about soon enough. Other things to worry about...It would almost be a blessing.

Sera was utterly relaxed. She felt like things were going just as she wanted them to go. After going to Tristan's village, they would be returning to the beautiful country of mist and fog. She would resume her post as leader of the healers, with hopefully fewer patients. Now that their perpetual war seemed to be over, she might not get as many people run through with swords. Those ones were always nasty. She did wonder, though, what they were going to do with Habren. She was a lovely woman, they had had some really nice conversations about healing, but she was so...remote. She had a more distant look in her eyes than anyone Sera had ever seen. Habren didn't appear to want to be were she was. Ever. That was an emotion that Sera had never felt before, and she had no idea how to help her sister-in-law.

For Sebbi, the question of children was a complex one. He had terrible memories of what happened to his last child, and would probably be far too overprotective of another. Yet, he did want a child with Aine very much. She would simply have to bear with his constant hovering. He would not want to leave her for an instant, he knew that. He was worried enough as it was about her already. So, yes he wanted children, but he would probably be experiencing as many mood swings as Aine.

Aine for her part had no real opinion. She didn't know what she wanted to do with her life yet. After being a creature of war for so long, it would take some getting used to before she embarked on any other sort of "life journey" if you wished to call it that.

* * *

Thoughts of children could be no further from Wacilla's mind. No, at the moment, the creature that commanded his thoughts was a fully-grown woman, one whom he had never seen. His mood was slightly spoiled, since no one had been terribly slow packing up. Some had actually left most of their possessions behind, not wanting to warrant an appointment with Wacilla's dagger. Oh, well. There was always tomorrow.

Wacilla had never felt warmth before. No matter how many women he had been with, there was no warmth. He had grown to accept that over the years, but now he was obsessed by the idea. It would not let him be. He did not sleep much, keeping watch over the two campsites of the travelers and Papay's bandits. They were on the look out for suspicious activity, and Wacilla decided that he would attack when they least expected it. He would play with them first.

He saw a female figure run into Papay's tent, saw the flicker of their melded bodies against the walls of the tent. Then, the candle was blown out, and he could see no more. So, that was Papay's whore. He couldn't see her very well in the dark, but he had no doubt that it was she. So, she had been missing her lover. That was very sweet...to anyone else but Wacilla. To him, it indicated weakness. None of his spies had been able to tell him what Habren felt for Papay, and now he could see with his own eyes the affect they had on one another. It would be...interesting...to see how quickly he could make her forget about him.

* * *

**Review please! Tell me if Wacilla is a bit too over the top. I kind of like him in a sick and twisted way, but whatever...**


	17. Chapter 17:Api and Surprises

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday, but I wanted to rework this chapter. It's almost all right now**.

**Mustang Gal**- Thanks!

**When Fire Meets Ice**-I think it would be hilarious to see Sebbi as a father, but then, I am a very sick and twisted person...

**A.K. Anomynous**- I agree. Wacilla gives me the shivers...

**Shallindra**- I like to pronounce the ay at the end of Papay as a long A sound. Maybe that would make it better.

**Tomb Raider X**- Thanks

**Camreyn**- Thanks; I never really liked the old title. I've always wanted to have a character who referred to his men as "his doves" so this was great fun for me. I could definitely see where people would get creeped out by that. Don't worry, I often have those same thoughts, and thus far, Habren has not kicked my ass...though there's always tomorrow...

**MonDieu666**- My thoughts exactly!

**HGandRHrforever**- Sorry, I guess sometimes I can't **update** every day, but I do **write** everyday, if that is any consolation. I get cookies? That's awesome!

**Dazzler420**- Lancelot doesn't want to know. Would you want to know about your sibling's sex life? Probably not. Just a thought, though...Thanks!

Tristan was starting to feel nervous. Well, he had been feeling nervous already, he knew they were being followed. But, Rebekah was no longer concerned about it, and he trusted her judgment. No, this new nervousness was for a completely different reason. They were about to enter his village. Oh, joy. Well, it wasn't that he didn't like his village; it was just the thought of coming back after being gone for so long. His mother would probably want to make up for lost time, and talk more than she usually did. Which was saying something, really, considering the amount of time she usually spent performing that task.

Rebekah was laughing at his current sullen demeanor, trying to cover signs of her own nerves. Tristan's description of his mother was not exactly comforting. She knew nothing of mothers, never really knowing her own. The whole idea of motherhood completely confounded her. She took a deep breath, and tried to smile. Her friends, who had already gone through this harrowing experience, gave her encouraging smiles, while all the time thinking, 'That poor, poor woman...'

Api was humming to herself, stirring the stew for their evening meal. The sun would be setting soon, and Tutyr had just come back from hunting. She looked up from the pot, and saw, to her astonishment, a group of eleven riders coming their way. They were Sarmatians; well most of them were, anyway. It was the tattoos that she recognized first.

Api had given up all hope of seeing her son again. Not many survived fifteen years of service to the Roman Empire, yet here he was. She ran back to her tent to fetch Tutyr. She wasn't quite sure how to react.

Tutyr had been cleaning his weapons when Api burst into the tent. She grabbed his hand, making him drop his sword, and dragged him bodily from the tent. She was a rather short woman, and he was a rather tall man. This made for quite a picture. Api didn't look terribly strong, but Tutyr knew otherwise. It seemed as though he was simply pulled through life. He didn't even try to hold his ground any longer. Such actions were completely useless. As he was pulled along, he wondered what had caused her excitement this time. Soon, the answer became quite apparent. Tristan.

But this was not the Tristan he remembered. Tristan had been a gangly fifteen year old at their last parting, now, he was anything but gangly. The party of eleven had dismounted, but stayed where they were, not sure how the village would react. Api strode forward, Tutyr in tow, and grasped her son to her is a bone cracking hug.

Tristan, who had been expecting this, grit his teeth, and held his breath. His tunic was starting to feel a bit damp, and he found to his horror, that his mother had started crying. This was becoming a bit much for Tristan's emotional limit. He wasn't good at comforting crying women. He wasn't good at making them feel at ease (Well, Rebekah might have something else to say about that)...He patted her back awkwardly, and looked to his father for rescue. Tutyr, seeing his son's desperate expression, pulled his wife of Tristan. A look of immense relief crossed Tristan's face briefly, before it went blank again. The moment was ruined when Api started talking.

"Oh, we're so thrill that you came, I was just saying to Tutyr that we wanted to see you again, wasn't I, dear? And look at you, all grown up! What are you doing to your hair these days? And who are all your little friends dear?" she asked breathlessly.

There was a bit of a stunned silence, as the "little friends" tried to comprehend all that was just spoken. It appeared that Tristan took after his father, who hadn't spoken at all yet. He was the one to break the silence.

"Api, let the poor boy get settled in before going after his hair. Invite them to dinner." He instructed gently.

"Oh, of course. I'll have to add more to the stew, but then; the more the merrier, as my mother used to say..." this went on for some time, before they graciously excused themselves, and finally let their jaws drop. They had never met such a talkative woman. They all understood Tristan's feelings on small talk now.

They took their time setting up their tents, not wanting to return too quickly. Rebekah was taking in air in short gasps, trying to hide her rattled nerves. What if Api didn't like her? How uncomfortable would that make their stay? It was Tristan's turn to smile now. He would survive his mother's tongue, but Rebekah was distinctly unnerved by it. Rebekah's head snapped in his directions, as he let a small chuckle escape his lips. Under any other circumstances, Rebekah would have been happy to have Tristan express amusement in such a fashion. Now, however, it was an annoyance.

"How did you survive?" she asked in wonder.

"I spent much of my time alone in the forests. She doesn't like them." He said, still grinning slightly.

Rebekah collapsed on their cot, completely exhausted. They would have to spend the evening being talked at. She could only pray that she would be able to summon the strength to smile and nod every so often.

The women of the group offered silent sympathy to their unfortunate comrade, trying to think of ways to help her through such troubling times.

Night fell, and they knew that there would be no escape. It was time. They were going to dinner.

The tribe was bigger than Tristan remembered. They had obviously grown in number. His mother made sure they all had enough food, fussing all the while about something or another. He sighed. It would be a rough evening. He really shouldn't be complaining. He had been through worse, but not much. He would have preferred taking on an entire company of bandits than making small talk with his mother, but this did not appear to be an option. He resigned himself to an evening of blank features.

Api was not an empty-headed woman. She simply functioned better in an atmosphere of constant noise. Her babbling was really an attempt to mask her own insecurities about herself and others. The arrival of her presumably dead son had her speaking more rapidly than usual. Her chattering was brought to an abrupt halt when Tristan calmly stated,

"This is Rebekah, we wish to be married by the tribe."

She really didn't know what to say to this. She hadn't gotten used to thinking of her little boy in adult terms. He was in his early thirties, not his mid-teens now. He loved a woman. It was a lot for her to take in in such a small period of time. She fixed a smile on her face and kissed her future daughter in law on both cheeks. Rebekah returned the greeting. Api did not appear to hold a grudge against her, but she could tell that the old woman was not entirely comfortable with the situation.

Tutyr took the news in stride, never letting any surprise show. He slid an arm around his wife's waist when she returned to her seat, knowing that she needed reassurance from him. She needed a rock. He had always been that for her. Her muscled noticeably relaxed at his touch, and Tutyr nearly smiled. She would be all right in the end. She always was.

Papay paced his tent, unease filtering in. All through their journey, Habren had come to him every night. It made mornings very stressful, though it made the nights considerably more comfortable. She was now with a new tribe of Sarmatians, one that he didn't know anything about. He could feel something different about this journey, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Something was definitely off.

Wacilla smiled. They were feasting now, welcoming their long lost son home. How very touching. Habren was smiling mindlessly, allowing her gaze to wander to where he knew Papay's tents were set up. The sweetness seemed to go on and on. Every so often, Habren would converse with the woman next to her, and at one point, patted her stomach. He tucked that information away for later. You never knew when a pregnant woman would come in handy.

Deirdre was not feeling well. Morning sickness it seemed was not strictly limited to the morning hours. She ducked out of the circle, and Habren followed. Galahad watched them go, knowing that Deirdre didn't like having lots of people around to see her throw up. She would be fine with Habren. Radha got up from the circle as well. Her friend needed her. That much she knew. Pregnant women often were more receptive to female help, than male help, and she would take Galahad's place.

Amage sat up in bed, her skin slicked with sweat. Babai joined her, a questioning expression on his face. Amage shook her head, trying to clear it. She didn't know how she knew it, but she did. Her child was in danger.

Wacilla placed the last dagger in it's sheathe, and turned to leave. They would wait now.

He saw three figures huddled together, and recognized them at once. Well, it appeared that the wait was over. Spurned into action, he and his men charged. Wacilla grabbed the pregnant one, who had just finished relieving her stomach of all of the food she had just eaten. They would not risk harming her.

He held one of his numerous daggers to her throat, and immediately, the other two women stopped struggling. Wacilla weighed his options. He couldn't let the other two women go, they would alert the village. His men had been wanting some entertainment; these two could hold them until they reached civilization again. He always had to think about keeping his men happy, it was a tiresome task.

He handed off the pregnant one to one of his men, and slowly made his way over to Habren. Her hair was disheveled, face red from the struggle. Both arms were behind her back now, and she was being held by one of his men. This was not apparently to her liking. He pushed the curls out of her face, and stroked her cheek. She looked a bit shocked at this gesture, and looked about ready to protest. He brought a finger up to her lips, and indicated her pregnant friend. Though he didn't speak, his message was clear. Habren couldn't risk angering him.

Wacilla signaled his men to move them back to camp. They would be leaving soon. They would be discovered missing eventually, and Wacilla was not about to risk them being found. He had planned this quite carefully, though his plan did rely on several uncontrollable factors. He only hoped that his luck would hold.

Habren didn't know who this man was, why he had taken them, or where they were going. All she knew was that it wasn't simply Deirdre, Radha, and her in danger. There was a child growing inside Deirdre that needed to be protected at all cost. Maternal instincts she didn't even know she had kicked in, keeping her silent. She was currently riding with the mysterious bandit leader, his arms wrapped around her body. She did not think that this action was simply to keep her from running away. His nearness was making her uneasy, and he sensed her mood. He did not change his behavior, but held onto this little bit of information. He would find out everything there was to know about Habren, daughter of Sarmatia.

Deirdre was nearly in tears, her emotions already made shaky by her pregnancy, were not holding up well with their recent abduction. She was riding with a leering individual who made her skin crawl. She remembered how it felt to be in Galahad's arms, and tried to pretend that none of this had really happened. It was a wasted effort. No matter what she tried to tell herself, the facts remained the same. They were in serious trouble.

Radha was enraged. Several of the men had felt the need to slap her backside, and she wasn't even allowed to retaliate. She would kill them soon. Once Deirdre was safe, they would not last long. They dared to threaten the life of a pregnant woman, and in Radha's book, that made them lower than the worms that crawled under the earth.

Papay's unease was growing by the minute. Something was simply not right. He risked a closer look at the festivities, but found to his shock, that Habren wasn't there. He scanned the faces again, but still she was not among them. He tried to calm himself. She could have stayed in her tent. Perhaps she was ill... Two of the other women who where usually with the party were absent as well, perhaps they were together... Or, maybe, she had gone to see him, and they had missed each other. With this in mind, he raced back to his tent, leaving his men to wonder what he was up to.

She was not there either.

**Review Please! _Pumpkin bars_ for everyone! (Yes, _pumpkin bars_, with _frosting_...yum!)**


	18. Chapter 18:Realization and Pumpkin Bars

**I have recently learned that most of you have never even heard of Pumpkin Bars. All I have to say is _SHAME!!!!! _On that note, I have included the recipe after the chapter. Bake them, and see for yourself. I had no time to convert the measurements to metric, though if anyone does have the time, email it to me, and I'll post it. My email is **

**A.K. Anomynous**- You know what pumpkin bars are! Yey! You will simply have to wait and see...tee hee hee!

**Tomb Raider X**- Tristan is just so much fun to write. He has very little emotional capacity.

**Camreyn**- It's okay, I understand having no time. Look on the bright side; you are still my longest reviewer! You will simply have to wait and see.

**BillieLiv**- I've often wondered what Tristan's mother would be like. I like to think that I've gotten her somewhat on target.

**Camlann**- For some reason, I thought I read in your profile that you are in college, if so, find someone with a stove-bribe them, threaten them, whatever works for you- and make the PUMKIN BARS! You will love them. No one can not love them. They are THAT good. I would love to see Gawain go postal...from a distance, of course!

**Elvenstar5**- I don't know about tearing, but hacking is a distinct possibility.

**HGandRHrforever**- Yey! An empanada! I love you! You are my new best friend! More pumpkin bars for you!

**When Fire Meets Ice**- You poor deprived child. Make the pumpkin bars, and you will see what I mean.

Tristan vaguely remembered seeing Habren, Deirdre, and Radha leaving the gathering. He had assumed that Deirdre was having more deceptively titled "morning sickness." They had not returned. He would be of no real help. Vanora had never asked for his help in any of her pregnancies, and he knew even less about pregnant women than he did about children. He turned his attention back to Rebekah. To his utter astonishment, Rebekah was actually _speaking. _His mother was _listening._

"No, I'm not pregnant. You'll have to wait a bit longer for grandchildren..." Rebekah was saying.

Api's face fell, but she recovered, smiling at her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law.

"Well, Tristan was always a difficult child...always running off into the woods...I never understood that...he'd always come back covered in dirt...I always wondered what he was doing in there..." mused Api, in her breathless way.

Rebekah flashed a grin at Tristan, who was looking rather sullen.

"And what do you think of his hair? It's rather wild, don't you think? You should do something about that...I've been trying to talk to Tutyr for years about his hair, but he never listens..." said Api, shaking her head.

Tristan and Tutyr exchanged significant glances, reminding each other not to react.

Rebekah inspected Tristan as she fought back a storm of laughter. "He does look a bit savage, doesn't he? That generally works to my advantage, though..."

It was Tristan's turn to raise an eyebrow, and he suddenly wished more than ever that they were very much alone. Various dirty thoughts went through his mind at her seductive smile, and he silently cursed her. She _would_ pick a time like this, wouldn't she? To compromise his thoughts with their surroundings, he pulled her into his lap, holding her close to his chest, face buried in her neck and hair. Api looked a bit shocked at his behavior, but Tutyr copied his movements soon after, crushing her argument.

Gawain and Galahad were currently arguing over who would make a better father.

"...I would teach my sons greater respect of women..." Galahad was saying.

Gawain was unimpressed with this argument. "Count the number of women that you know who would give up a good bedding for eternal chastity." He said with finality, as though this settled the matter.

"I am not chaste! If you hadn't noticed, _my_ wife happens to be carrying _my_ child!" It was out of his mouth before he even realized how much that comment would hurt.

Gawain felt instantly defensive and protective of Radha. If she had heard that, it would make her very upset. Radha liked to pretend that what others thought meant little to her. For the most part, that was true. She did, however, care about the opinion of her friends. Gawain turned to comfort and reassure her, but thankfully, she wasn't there.

Galahad was not feeling at the top of the world at the moment. He hadn't meant it like it came out! All of a sudden, a thought occurred to him: He should be on the ground, looking up at the sky. Deirdre and Radha should have been clobbering him by now. Where were they?

Lancelot had noticed the direction of the debate, and decided to intervene for the sake of humanity. "I know! We could all simply agree that I would make the best father. I have _skills_ gentlemen. Indeed, I could teach my sons to be extremely considerate to a woman's wants and needs. Poor Radha and Deirdre will never be as satisfied as Sera, whether it be in good company, or in bed."

This particular speech had the response he had been hoping for. Sera gave him a good swift kick, and Gawain and Galahad scoffed, their argument forgotten. Lancelot, however, noticed something more. Radha and Deirdre were not the only ones missing. His eyes flicked over the faces that surrounded him. Habren was gone.

Lancelot nearly groaned with annoyance, but brushed it aside. She would have her fun. He simply wished she would stop lying to him. He hated being such a mother.

Sebbi listened to the argument but did not comment. Talk of fatherhood always did it for him. Aine slid a surprisingly gentle hand up his back. It was a soothing gesture; it was a tone that she rarely showed. He gave her a slight smile to show his thanks. Aine nodded. They managed to communicate without words a shocking percentage of the time. While Sebbi still tried to interest her in the lovely terrain of the country, Aine continued to shake her head and muttered in response. It was not a malicious relationship. Aine didn't know what she would do with herself if Sebbi ever stopped trying to convert her to the life of a scholar. Sebbi knew she would never castrate him. All threats were made in a sense of fun...well, most of the time...

Galahad and Gawain were starting to wonder where their lovers had gone off to.

"Lancelot, you have any idea where Radha and Deirdre have gone to?" asked Gawain.

Lancelot appeared nonchalant. "If it was Rebekah and Sera off in the shadows, I wouldn't be too worried, but Deirdre and Radha have never had a 'special' relationship."

Lancelot earned another kick at this, though Rebekah joined in the fun this time.

Now, everyone was wondering where the three women had gone. They all excused themselves, and split up, going to check their various tents.

Galahad ran back to the tent he shared with Deirdre, but it looked exactly as it had before they left for the evening meal. He ran to Gawain's tent, but found the same to be true there as well. They both dashed to Habren's tent now, only to find Lancelot standing outside it, looking confused.

There was someone in there.

Papay froze, and saw the outline of eight figures outside Habren's tent. This was not good. He had been so preoccupied, that he hadn't even been listening for approaching footsteps. There was only one way out of the tent. Papay braced himself for their entry, knowing that this meeting would have gone better under different circumstances.

The curly haired one entered first, swords drawn. They stared at each other quite some time. This man was obviously Habren's brother. Lancelot approached the stranger cautiously. Papay took a chance, raising both his hands so that Lancelot would see that he was not armed.

"Where is she?" demanded Lancelot.

"She isn't with you?" asked Papay; panic beginning to seep in now.

Rebekah stepped forward, and marched up to the unknown male. The others looked about ready to stop her, but she sent them a look, and they desisted. She grabbed the collar of his tunic, and pulled it down to inspect his neck. Habren's signature. She let him go with a sigh, knowing how uncomfortable the situation was about to become.

"I'm Rebekah. You know Habren. What is your name?" she asked.

She knew he wouldn't tell her his name unless she had offered hers first. He eyed her warily, gauging her motives, her character.

"I know Habren. Why is she not with you?" he asked, still not giving up his name.

"She went with Radha to attend to a pregnant woman named Deirdre. We can't find any of them. Do you know where they could have gone?" she asked more calmly than she felt.

"In which direction did they go?" he asked.

The group led him to where they had last seen the women. Lancelot was looking at him in a distinctly untrusting manner. Well, he had no cause to trust him, now did he? For all he knew, this could be the fellow who was currently bedding his sister. Those prejudices aside, he hadn't even given them his name. What did he have to hide?

Tristan, Rebekah, and Papay began tracking them, not knowing what they would find. Why would they have wandered off like that? It wasn't safe...But perhaps that was it! It wasn't safe! That was not exactly a comforting thought. Rumors of bandits were ubiquitous, and most of them did not have a happy ending.

They followed the tracks until they came to Deirdre's dinner. While normally they would have averted their eyes, they now searched the area.

"This is not good. More footsteps join them here. They don't have any footprints after this point. They were carried." Said Papay, dread filling his voice, he ran with the footprints, determined to follow them to the end. What he came across next sent chills through his body. A tent had been left behind; he could see where the others had been. At his feet lay a familiar dagger, one he had prayed fervently never to see again. This simply kept getting worse and worse.

The others caught up to him, wondering what he had found. It was very apparent; none of them needed an explanation. Papay bent and retrieved the dagger. He glared at it, and vowed vengeance. If he thought he could do this, well, Papay would simply have to inform him personally that his luck had run out. He was no one's errand boy any longer. He was his own man. The man had taken his woman, and the man would pay. Oh, yes. He would.

They had finally stopped for the night. The women were kept under heavy guard as the rest of the bandits set up the tents. When the camp had been set up, they were brought to the largest tent.

Wacilla had his back to the women, and didn't turn around until he could sense them fidgeting. He faced them, taking in their lack of energy, their confusion. It was all as it should be, except for Habren's glare. She was holding her head high, a look of distain on her beautiful face. She would be a joy to understand, to know. Yes, this one had complexity.

He took her hands, and pulled her to her feet, studying her. She was not a frail creature; she was sturdy, created for hard rides, stamina, bed. She instinctually drew away from him. He gave a low whistle, and two of his men came in, looking apprehensive. Their leader's mood was not easily forecasted.

"You may take the others. Do what you want with them." He said, never taking his blue eyes away from Habren's face.

Habren considered the situation. She was special to him for some reason; perhaps she could use that to her and her friends benefit.

"Do that, and you have nothing to bargain with." She said softly, yet dangerously.

Wacilla studied her more closely, noting to firm set of the mouth. She would not give up easily. "What do you suggest I do with them?" he asked with polite interest, a tone that had his men backing towards the tent flap.

"Leave them alone. I would be very displeased if something...unpleasant...were to occur." She said, imitating his cool tone.

It was as if they were having a conversation about the weather, rather than the lives of the two women still seated on the ground.

"And if I refuse?" he asked, internally amused.

"As I said, I would be _very_ displeased. I'm not the kindest of creatures when I am displeased."

"Neither am I." Responded Wacilla.

"Good. Then we are in agreement. They are to be left alone." She said, firmly.

Wacilla brought a hand up, stroking the curve of her neck with his thumb. Habren nearly flinched, but contained her emotion. "Are you sure that that is the way you want it?" he asked softly. The implication was clear.

Habren forced herself not to scowl. "Yes." She said shortly.

He never took his eyes away from hers, while he instructed his men. "Take the others to the prisoner's tent. Double the guard. If anything...unpleasant...happens, you can be sure that something equally unpleasant will occur." Again in that calm, polite tone that nonetheless conveyed such power and threat.

When they were alone, Wacilla brought his hands to her sides, stroking with surprising gentleness, occasionally cupping a breast. Habren forced herself not to react. She knew she should attack him, hit him, hate him. But she didn't. She took a deep breath, stuck out her chin, trying to think of Papay. She nearly tricked herself into thinking that the man in front of her was her lover. But then the image faded, and the man bent his head to kiss her neck, right over the mark that Papay had left.

REVIEW PLEASE! I AM IN SCHOOL AGAIN AND AM GOING INSANE!! ARG!

**And now, for all you poor unfortunate souls who have never even _heard_ of Pumpkin Bars, here is the recipe.**

PUMPKIN BARS Ingredients 

_**4 eggs**_

_**1 cup vegetable oil**_

_**2 cups sugar**_

_**1 (15 oz.) can of pumpkin**_

_**(MIX NOW!)**_

Mix in 

_**2 cups flour**_

_**2 tsp. Baking powder**_

_**1 tsp. Baking soda**_

_**½ tsp. Salt**_

_**2 tsp. Cinnamon**_

_**½ tsp. Ginger**_

_**½ tsp. Cloves**_

_**½ tsp. Nutmeg**_

_**(MIX WELL!)**_

_**Pour into greased floured pan. (i.e. cookie sheet with sides, or "jelly roll sheet")**_

_**Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes**_

Frosting 

_**1 6 oz. Package of creamed cheese**_

_**¾ cup butter**_

_**1 Tbs. Milk**_

_**1 tsp. Vanilla**_

_**4 cups powdered sugar.**_

I'm sorry if you use metric units. I don't have the time at the moment to convert everything, perhaps I will later...

**For the rest of you, make your wildest dreams come true by voting for Pedro, or by simply making these fantastic pumpkin bars, because they are yummy.**


	19. Chapter 19:Hate and Whores

**I haven't updated because I had four tests to study for and a Jack the Ripper speech to finish. NO SLEEP...Okay, this is a weird chapter. Enjoy.**

**Mac-c**- Thanks! I love reviews! They are so helpful!

**Mustang Gal**- Thanks!

**The Lycanthrope**- Okay, I'll try to retain my sanity. That is so nice!

**A.K. Anomynous**- Oh, well. I have come to the conclusion that it is my duty in life to spread the gospel of the pumpkin bars. Make them and enjoy!

**Camreyn**- I hope you get time soon, but you are still my longest reviewer. Yey! People react differently to dangerous situations, and I really wanted Habren to be like this. I'm glad you liked it!

**Tomb Raider X**- A Mary Sue, from what I can gather is a beautiful, flawless character who always does everything perfectly. You have some rather nasty reviewers. Don't worry about them and focus on your story. It is good to give your characters flaws, however. So many excellent plot lines come out of character flaws. I love your story, and I really want to know what happens. Post soon!

**When Fire Meets Ice**- PUMPKIN BARS ALL THE WAY! I hope you liked them.

**HgandRHrforever**- Indeed I did. I hope you find this chapter interesting.

Deirdre looked desperately about the tent, looking for an escape, but finding none. She had seen Habren transform from "woman of the shadows" to "woman of the frost." It had been a fascinating yet utterly disturbing process to watch. She had started to protest at Habren's methods, but Radha had stopped her, wordlessly. Deirdre had remembered the child growing within her. Radha couldn't forget. All of the women formed an invisible wall around the child, ready to defend it at all cost. Habren would be bearing most of the weight, though that could not be helped. Life did not always hand you the most convenient opportunities.

Deirdre looked to Radha, defeat etched in her features. Radha began to speak in the old tongue of their land, that hadn't been used for practical purposes since the arrival of the Romans. Now, it was simply used in Woad ceremonies, rather than for everyday use. Their conversation was therefore, a bit rusty, neither having much cause for fluency in the ancient language.

"Habren will be fine." Assured Radha, soothingly, though she didn't hold on to much hope herself.

Deirdre sighed, wrapping her arms protectively around her stomach. Radha's tone hadn't fooled her. She prayed to every god she knew that Habren would live.

They had a counsel of nine. It was an awkward situation only made worse with thoughts of their lovers and friends in mortal peril. Lancelot was not willing to trust this newcomer, as he had thus far refused to identify himself.

Rebekah was becoming tired of dancing. She had never enjoyed dancing around a question, and she was loosing patience with this man. She strode over to him, clapping her hands on either side of his face, forcing to look her in the eye.

"You are Habren's lover. I have seen your mark on her body, and right now, that doesn't interest me at all. At the moment, what I am most concerned about is getting my friends back. You will tell me who you are, and who has taken them. You will do this because it is the only way to get Habren back. You can't do it on your own." She said, clearly having lost most of her tolerance.

Papay knew she spoke the truth, though it was not a truth he wished to face. Lancelot did not look like the kind of fellow to mess with. Messing around with his sister would not have brightened his mood. Nor would his choice of profession. He had no other choice.

"My name is Papay. I am a bandit, and before you kill me, think of Habren. Do you think she would love someone who killed people on a regular basis? No. She would not. We don't kill people. She was taken by a rival bandit leader. I was part of his band for a time, though we did not have a fond farewell. He is unbalanced. We should leave, I will get my men, and meet you back here." He said, and turned sharply back in the direction of his tents. He was not usually eloquent, but that little speech had been in his head for quite some time. Now, however, he had more pressing matters on his mind. Like how Habren was currently at the mercy of his least favorite person in the known world. It was not a cheery thought. He sprinted the remaining distance. Time was of the essence. It would be too dark to travel soon. It wasn't safe for humans or horses to travel in the dark. They wouldn't be able to follow a trail that they could not see.

Afsati was cleaning up the mess that Magovey and Angi had made of their meals. They needed a nursemaid. It was pathetic, really. Papay came running towards him. That could not be a good thing. He had been acting strangely, and he only acted strangely when something was wrong with Habren.

"We have to go. Now. Wacilla has Habren." He gasped, his breath slowly returning to normal. He knew that this was all that he needed to say. He could fill them in on the details as they rode.

Afsati stared at him in horror. How had he found them? He quickly snapped back to reality, and nodded. He didn't know what to say to Papay, didn't know if he could really say anything that would help. He could, however, get Magovey and Angi's lazy backsides moving.

Galahad was in a state of shock. His wife and his unborn child were currently in the hands of crazed maniacal bandits. Deirdre had fragile emotions at the moment, not to mention the physical damage that could be done to her. Galahad realized something. Deirdre was his center. She was always there for him. Now, she was not. Now, she needed him. It was a dramatic role reversal, and Galahad vowed to live up to her standards. He would kill the bastards if they caused her harm. He would kill the bastards if they hadn't. The moment they had taken his wife was the moment they had signed their own death warrant.

Gawain was usually seen an easygoing sort of fellow. He didn't like to make a scene, unless it was at the expense of Lancelot. Now, however was not the time to sit back and watch life. Now, as had happened in the past, was time for action. His entire demeanor changed at these crucial points in time. They called Tristan cold. Tristan was nothing compared to Gawain in a fit of frosty rage. Gawain did not have a fiery temper. He possessed a more calculating, more tactical fury. Radha was his woman. They had taken her, and they would die. It was quite simple. If he didn't do it, Radha would. Radha possessed a calm nature, and he hoped that that would pull her through.

Tristan was simply going to kill them all. Deirdre, Radha, and Habren had become sisters to him. Deirdre in particular worried him the most. He was frightened of parenthood. Yet, sweet Deirdre had the courage to embrace it with open arms. As far as he was concerned, that made her his superior ten times over. He glanced over at Rebekah, who was strapping every weapon she owned to her body. Her face was set, and Tristan knew her thoughts. If a single bandit escaped her, it would only be in the event of her own fall from this world.

Aine had only seen Sebbi look like this once before. At their first meeting, when he had saved her life. It had confused her at the time, but she understood it now. It was a reflex for him to protect women after his wife fell. And now, three women, one of them pregnant, and all being his friends were in danger. Sebbi the fun loving scholar was gone. In his place resided a focused and deadly warrior. Aine almost felt sorry for the bandits...except for the fact that she did not.

They set out, riding in silence. The bandits and the Woads/Sarmatians/Saxons eyed each other in mistrust, though made no comment. They rode until the path was obscured from their vision, though they all longed to go further. They knew the bandits would need to stop for the night as well, though this did nothing to quash their nerves.

Lancelot was extremely confused. He didn't know if he should hug this Papay, or gut him. He was the reason that his sister had been taken, but he was so anxious and concerned about her fate that Lancelot couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Papay kept fingering a ratty pink ribbon tied around his wrist. Lancelot didn't know how, but he knew it was Habren's. This man didn't simply want her in his bed; he wanted her in his arms. Perhaps he wasn't such a scoundrel after all. Though, there was that minor detail of his profession. Though, he had told the truth, he didn't kill people, Lancelot had never had a particular love of thieves. Tristan only took a trinket here or there, this man made his living taking things from others.

Lancelot held Sera tightly through the night, assuring himself that she was still there. He had lost his sister; he would not lose his wife. He buried his face in her neck, and if Sera noticed the tears against her skin, she said nothing of it. She held him, stroking his hair, trying to tell him that everything would be fine. They both knew it was a lie, but it was a comforting lie.

Tristan was finding it hard to sleep. He didn't want to appear needy, but he was. He tried to keep his hands off of her, but they wound their way around her waist all the same. Rebekah knew that he didn't like people seeing this side of him. She let him think her asleep, and enjoyed the warmth his body offered.

Papay woke up periodically in the night, smelling her scent in the air. But hen he opened his eyes, and he knew it had been a dream. It was all a dream.

Habren hated herself. She had let this man remove her dress. She had let this man set her down on his bedding. His hands were not as unpleasant as she had expected. He had coarse, rough hands just like Papay's; the memory was comforting. As his hands traveled over her body, his mouth followed, warm breath making her skin ache. Her breath was coming in short gasps now, and he delighted in the ability to make her respond to his touch. Her mind whirled; the only logical thought in her mind was that she didn't even know this man's name. He was obviously a bandit leader like Papay, though she doubted that they shared tactics. She was torn away from these scanty thoughts by his mouth on her neck again. He appeared to have a fascination with the love bites that she had acquired over her three weeks as Papay's woman.

Papay. He had been her first, and she had fantasized in her more whimsical moments of him being her last. As the man situated himself between her legs, she knew that those thoughts had been not but an idle dream. He drew her arms over her head, pinning her down. Her eyes were suddenly focused.

"What is your name?" she asked.

What could it hurt? After all, she would be screaming soon, and he wanted his name on her lips when she did.

"Wacilla." He whispered in her ear, nearly smirking when she inhaled sharply as his lips brushed her skin.

Such a pretty face. She was rather inexperienced, though Papay had obviously given her the abridged version. He would show her the full heights of pleasure. He kept his hands locked around her wrists, watching her eyes glaze over, feeling her pulse spike, her body quiver. She did not cry out, though. No matter what he did, she remained silent. Her hips rose to meet his, but it was more a reaction than actual passion. She retained her secrets, her mysteries. It angered him as it thrilled him. He wouldn't want it all to be over so soon.

Wacilla was growing weary, though he would never have admitted it to anyone. It took an extraordinary amount of energy to make love to a woman. Though, it was not a term that Wacilla approved of. Wacilla did not make love. He slept with women, he bedded women, he never loved any woman. He pulled Habren's thoroughly used body toward him, feeling their sweet mingling on their skin. He wrapped a territorial arm around her, holding her to his body.

His dagger was not in it's sheathe.

Habren hated herself. She felt empty, hollow. She was nothing but a dirty whore.

**I know it's slightly depressing, but please review anyway. I'll love you forever.**


	20. Chapter 20: Dreams

**Okay. This is my first rewrite. I like it a lot better now. Some things I kept the same, but I changed a lot. I added a dream of Radha's that I have absolutely fallen in love with. Let me know if this is any better than it was.**

Habren smiled. She could feel Papay's rough hands stroking her breasts, an arousing wakeup call. She sighed, opening her eyes.

Those were not Papay's hands.

The previous night came back to her, like a bad dream. She didn't want it to be real. His breath was hot on her neck, his hands finding their way to the most sensitive areas. It was impossible not to react, though Habren put up a good fight. He rolled her onto her back, driving her mad with his motions. He finally entered her, after she whimpered a bit.

He rolled out of bed, and dressed quickly. "We will be leaving soon. Be ready." He said, shortly.

Wacilla knew that they had to get moving. The women would have been missed by now; Papay no doubt would be wondering why he spent the night alone. That gave Wacilla quite a bit of satisfaction, knowing that he had had Papay's woman in his bed last night. She had been great fun. It was beautiful to watch her struggle, her surrender. He would never tire of that. He would make her scream.

Habren was lying on her back, legs still flung wide. She couldn't bring herself to move. Her mornings had never been like this. Papay was gentle in the morning, he was all whispers and caresses. She missed that. Wacilla was rough and demanding, but not overtly violent. In a way, she liked that aggression, but she wished that Wacilla had not been the one she experienced it with. She wanted to be held, she wanted to be loved. Wacilla was incapable of those things. Papay was not. Papay was different. Wacilla, she had spread her legs for. Papay, she made love to. They were very different things. With both, there was a need, a reaction. With love, there was passion, there was caring. With Wacilla, all she experienced was lust. Yes, she liked how he made her body feel, but Papay could do so much more. She loved him.

He would not want her now. Willingly sleeping with another man would not make her terribly appealing to him.

She found her dress that had been carelessly tossed aside last night on the floor, and slipped into it, remembering how Papay always insisted on helping her dress. Pulling the dress on by herself considerably cut down on the time that she spent on such endeavors. She wondered if she could get through the day without everything reminding her of how badly she wanted Papay. The chances were very slim.

Radha shook Deirdre out of her sleep.

"Wake up. They'll be moving soon." She said, shortly.

Deirdre groaned. She was tired of getting up so early! Why could they not leave her in peace? But then she heard the grunt of one of their guards. That changed things.

She turned to Radha, uncertainty clear on her features. "Will they come for us?" she whispered.

"They will." Reassured Radha, soothingly.

Radha had dreamt of battle. A very particular battle. The battle in which she and Gawain had fought for the first time...

_It was a miserably hot day. It had mercifully rained the night before, thought the heat had returned in force. The grass was still slick. Radha had just finished applying her Woad paint, and was checking her weapons, making sure they were still sharp. She had been ill, unable to move. This would be her first attack for some time, and it wouldn't do for her blades to fail. She secured her hair so that it would stay out of her face, and nearly smiled. It felt good to be back in uniform again._

_Sera, Guinevere, and Rebekah had gone missing. People had begun to talk about replacements. They had mentioned Radha as a possibility for Rebekah's position, but she didn't want it. Radha had no interest in strategy. She would not fill the shoes of her cousin's friend. That idiot Etain thought she had it made. Radha sighed. If it came down to Etain and herself, she would push for the position. Anyone was better than Etain. Merlin was overseeing the troops in their absence._

_The knights would be patrolling today, and the Woads couldn't risk discovery. They had too many children and frail elderly to move at such short notice. They needed to buy some time. As they distracted the knights, the children and old people would slip deeper into the forest. _

_She ducked out of her tent, nodding to her acquaintances as they passed. A pack of children raced past her, and she smiled. Woad children always seemed to be able to amuse themselves. One couldn't help but love them._

_She joined the assembled warriors. They were waiting for Merlin. Merlin didn't seem to operate on any time schedule known to man. He had some rather strange ideas, yet he had not yet led the Woads astray. They could accept his eccentricities, and never really expected an explanation. Merlin's explanations rarely made sense anyway._

_Merlin had finally decided that it was time to leave. He didn't even bother speaking. He nodded to them, and they melted into the trees. They knew what they were doing, they had done this countless times before. _

_Radha watched them from a tree. Seven men on horseback, apparently relaxed. She had seen them before, fought them before. Arthur and his knights. Blood traitor. How he could sleep at night, Radha didn't know. The signal came, and Radha began her decent from the tree. Her blade was ready. By the Goddess, they would feel her sword today._

_With a great yell, the Woads surged from the trees, running at the knights. The knights wheeled their horses around to meet the charge. The one known as Bors let out his own war cry. It was twenty against seven, though the seven were on horses, giving them the advantage._

_By the time Radha arrived, ten of her fellows had been killed. These knights would be shown their place. She didn't yell as the others did. Radha had always seen that as a waste of breath. She went after the one who had been unhorsed. Blood was splattered over his armor, his face, and beard. When he saw her, he grinned, a clear invitation. Well, it would be rude to refuse... She attacked with a snarl. Radha swung her sword, going for his neck. He blocked her strike easily, and made one of his own. They circled each other, looking for weaknesses. He feinted to the right, but struck her left. She managed to block the worst of the blow, but he still managed to cut her side. Radha gritted her teeth against the pain, and angrily swung her blade, severing a braid from his head. The knight glared at her, and their fight continued. Each received the usual cuts and bruises, though they hadn't managed to kill each other yet. This was a great annoyance to Radha. Suddenly, they heard Merlin's signal from the woods. He wanted them to retreat._

_This only deepened Radha's vexation. Just a bit longer and she would kill the bastard! His eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, neither attacked. But then the moment was over, and he swung his axe around again. Radha ran. She had nearly reached the shelter of the trees when she slipped and fell on the slick grass. Perhaps the rain had not been such a blessing after all. She scrambled to her feet, hearing the thudding steps of the knight behind her, getting closer and closer. She sprinted faster than she ever had in her life. She scrambled up a tree, hoping he wouldn't follow her. She wasn't yet in perfect health, she couldn't run from him forever. She looked down from between the leaves and branches, and saw him staring at her. He had his axe in hand, and Radha had seen him use it to great effect previously. She knew she was going to die. She would face her death with her eyes open. Minutes past, but he did nothing._

_One of his friends called for him. He backed away slowly, finally turning and walking back to rejoin his friends. _

_Radha let out the breath that she had been holding in, and closed her eyes. She was very much alive. She glanced down at her body, and saw the blood. That would leave a scar..._

She could only hope that her husband would come for them soon. She missed her weapons dearly.

They were riding hard. Wacilla and his bandits were about two hours ahead of them, and they had no idea where they were going. Gawain was eerily distant. They had never seen him like this. Gawain was usually the happy one, when he got angry, he reacted quickly. Gawain was beyond angry now. He was furious.

Wacilla had Habren on his horse. He had walked in on her as she was dressing, and she had actually blushed. She was a different kind of woman than he was used to. He had slipped the amulet he had found on the dead woman onto Habren's neck. He could only hope that she met a different fate than the previous owner. Habren had stared at it for a long time, inspecting the grooves that had residual dried blood. Wacilla hadn't been able to clean it off.

Now, Wacilla had to admit that Habren made the journey more interesting.

"How did you meet Papay?" asked Wacilla.

Habren said nothing, staring off into the distance.

"Are you planning on being mute for the entire journey?" he asked, and still she remained silent. "Or, perhaps you believe I will not be able to comprehend your righteous words with my vile mind."

"I have nothing to say to you." She said, more calmly than she felt.

"And why is that?"

"To be quite blunt, Wacilla, you are a fiend."

Wacilla raised an eyebrow. "A fiend? Really? And what does that make your precious Papay? We are in the same line of work, after all."

"Papay is nothing like you. He has never abducted me..." she trailed off. In truth, he had.

"Ah, so _that's_ how you met." Wacilla smirked.

"It is not! I knew him before he abducted me! Besides, it wasn't so much an abduction, as much as it was a surprise." She huffed.

"So he's really a softy at heart, is he?" he asked.

"He is not soft."

"Then what is he?"

"He is nothing to you, but everything to me."

"Really?" he said, sliding his hand up her torso to cup a breast. "Is he still everything?"

"Yes." She said, breath catching in her throat.

"I thought so." He kissed her neck, pulling her closer. He thrived on her warmth.

The bandit who rode with Radha had been warned to behave, though no one had specified which sort of behavior was preferred. Radha was sure to set him straight. When he started running his hands up her thighs, she gave him a good hard shot to the gut.

"Do that again, and you will be killed." She hissed.

"Oh, and will you be the one to deal me the blow?" he asked, skeptically.

"If I don't, then my husband certainly will "

"Is that supposed to frighten me?" he scoffed.

"If it doesn't', then you are more a fool them I first assumed."

He sniggered, but didn't try to touch her again. There was definitely something chilling about her promising tone.

Deirdre did not have to resort to violence. The bandit she was riding with had been one of the bandits present when Habren had made her pact with Wacilla. He knew what behavior was expected.

Papay rode in silence. He didn't want to speak with anyone. It was far too painful. He studied the dagger that he had found, and sighed. He had hoped to avoid this confrontation. Now, his blood boiled for it. He wanted to see Wacilla bleed. He hadn't felt that for a long time. A very long time. He and this dagger had once been friends. Wacilla and this dagger wee one. Now, they were his enemies. Papay often wondered why everything had happened as it had. He knew what he had to do.

Lancelot studied Papay's back. What did his sister see in him? What drew her to him? His sister was no fool, yet she had chosen a criminal for her lover. Well, had he not chosen a Woad to share his bed? Was it really any different? Sera had been his enemy for fifteen years. Now, they were married. That was a right kick in the pants. (Or trousers, whichever term you prefer.) He nudged his horse next to Papay's though he didn't speak for some time.

"Do you love her?" asked Lancelot suddenly.

Papay glanced over at him, a bit startled by the question. "Yes." He said simply.

Lancelot nodded. "Good."

They rode in silence after that, not knowing what to say to one another.

Afsati had eyed the women with interest, until their Sarmatian (or Saxon) lovers had made their appearance. Not that it really mattered. If Papay was any indication, Women brought nothing but trouble. Habren was a nice enough woman, but why be anything more than friends? Situations like this always reminded Afsati of the risks that love brought. He didn't like the odds.

Wacilla and his bandits had stopped for the night. Wacilla's hands slid down her back, coming to rest at her hips.

"Go to my tent. I will be along shortly, I have something to attend to first." He said, and dismissively kissed her forehead.

He strode away to make sure the other prisoners were being treated with "pleasantness." When he arrived in the prisoners' tent, he found the pregnant one asleep on the others shoulder. The conscious woman glared at him, but made no comment at his presence. He sent the guards a look, though they did not appear to have been up to anything. Then he left, knowing that his men feared him enough to obey.

He was pleased to find Habren already undressed on his bed. She didn't look at him though. When he approached, she spread her legs in invitation. He looked questioningly at her, wondering why she hadn't spoken yet.

"Just get it over with." She whispered.

The words infuriated him. She had enjoyed it last night. She had enjoyed it this morning. She had enjoyed the ride, with all of the various activities. Now, she was simply lying to herself. He would show her how wrong she was. He would show her how much she wanted him.

He kept his clothes on, and lay on top of her, her legs wrapping around his waist. He took most of his weight on his arms, placed on either side of her body. He would pleasure her, but not take her. She would scream for him then. He would not give her what she wished for.

"Habren." He said softly over her whimpers, "Papay is not half the man I am. He could never affect you as I do, and you know it."

"No." she gasped.

His anger deepened. He claimed her mouth for the first time. Her filthy lied were quiet for the moment.

Papay could see the flicker of fires just below them. They had set up camp on a hill, overlooking the bandit tents. They would attack after dark. He wanted to attack now, but knew that the wait was necessary. The bandits expected an attack now. They would attack when most of them were asleep.

He knew what Wacilla was doing to Habren. He knew. It was all his fault. She would never forgive him. He fingered the dagger again, undecided as to whether this was the correct weapon to end Wacilla's life with. This dagger had so much meaning hidden under invisible layers of blood. It was not always so tainted.

Gawain was sharpening his weapons, remembering his wedding night. Radha had been sharpening her weapons then. Now, it was his turn. He tied her weapons to his back as well. She would be missing them.

Sera was worried. Lancelot was distracted, and when distracted he wasn't always as careful as he should be. They had only been married two weeks, and she was not willing to risk being made a widow so soon. She marched up to the pacing Lancelot, and tugged his lips down to hers. He needed to focus on something else.

Lancelot tugged his lips away and stared at her. What was she doing? Sera tugged her tunic over her head, and placed his hands on her flesh.

"There is no use worrying. What will happen tonight will happen. IT doesn't matter how many hours you spend pacing over it."

He sank onto the cot, head in hands. "I'm scared for her. I'm scared for all of them." He said softly.

She knelt in front of him, sliding her hands up his legs. She framed his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"So am I. We all are." She kissed him gently, "We will get them back."

He nodded, pulling her onto the cot. He held her close, looking for reassurance. Sera stroked his hair, his cheek. Lancelot wanted to escape reality. HE pulled his wife even closer, and kissed her, closing his eyes.

They would worry together.

Rebekah was currently working on planning the attack with Afsati. The man had good instincts, and he knew bandits better than she did.

"How many sentries will they have?" asked Rebekah.

Afsati shrugged. " 'bout three of four...After we take them out, we shouldn't have much of a problem...except for Wacilla. He's unpredictable. You'll want to watch that one." He shivered.

"That bad, eh?" asked Rebekah, smirking a bit.

"Worse." Responded Afsati.

"How do you suggest we take care of the sentries?" she asked.

Afsati studied her, wondering how receptive she would be to his idea. "Well, I'm not sure I could do it, but a pretty young thing like you..." he said slowly, eyes skimming the length of her body.

"Now, my dear Afsati, don't toy with my maiden's heart. Tell me. Spare no dirty details." She instructed. And so he did.

He made a suggestion that she originally rejected, but thought twice about. It might be a bit more effective; there was less of a chance for error. It was better than arrows, because there was always a chance that the arrows would find something other than their target. They had no wish for any of the hostages to die. All that was required was a little help from her friends...

Lancelot, Tristan, and Sebbi did not like this plan. The Woad women in their battle gear were for their eyes (and hands) only.

They were overruled, however. The women wanted their friends back, and the men were forced to admit that the plan would probably be most effective.

As they sashayed into the dark, Afsati was force to admit that women, while dangerous, came in handy quite often. He couldn't pull off an outfit like that. Or the walk, for that matter. He sighed. This was no time to become distracted by feminine flesh. Habren and her friends were in danger. He would face the men that he used to ride with. They would not be pleased to see him.

**Review, or I'll bite you...maybe...just kidding...**


	21. Chapter 21: The Dagger

**I added in some dialogue, some action, and a very informative flashback. I highly recommend that you read this, and the last chapter, as you won't get the ending otherwise. One of the major reasons I changed this chapter was that Wacilla's death was so anticlimactic. Hopefully, this works better now, let me know.**

**Tomb Raider X**- Yes, I'll be redoing the next chapter as well. Then, onto the epilogue! Woo Hoo!

**HGandRHrforever**- I have been known to be a rather heinous individual on occasion. This is for the best, you'll see...

**Camreyn**- thanks for taking the time to review. Let's be honest with ourselves...the last few chapters really sucked. But, as long as they're fixed, everything will work out. Thanks again!

* * *

Galatus was getting bored of the bandit life. They rarely had enough ale to go around, enough gold, enough women. It wasn't the glorious lifestyle that he had pictured when he first joined Wacilla. At any moment, one could be killed, and that would be the end of all aspirations. But he couldn't leave. Wacilla didn't take kindly to deserters.

Wacilla was really getting out of hand. He was certainly an asset when they sacked a village, but he was more of a liability the rest of the time. He didn't think like a normal man. Well, at least they knew he liked women now. He had excellent taste. Habren was quite the woman. Not that he could express this opinion. Wacilla didn't like anyone touching what was his.

The flicker of the firelight skimmed the curves of feminine flesh. That was certainly a surprise. Te women were supposed to be under heavy guard at all times. Wacilla was getting greedy, thinking only of his own pleasure. Galatus wondered if Wacilla kept all of them in his bed. It appeared that one had escaped. Galatus approved of the Gods' choice for him. She had a beautiful body.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Wacilla's tent?" he asked her slyly, looking her up and down.

She grinned seductively at him, sliding onto his lap. She kissed his neck, surprising him. His hand strayed from his sword. He had expected her to be hostile to his advances, most women were. She seemed to flourish in captivity. So much the better.

He slid his hands up her legs "Well, if you're going to be like that..." he was abruptly cut off by her dagger slashing his throat.

Rebekah whipped her dagger on the dead man's tunic, and noted the blood now staining her chest. She tisked softly, and went to see how the others had fared. She found her bloodstained friends, and they signaled for the remaining fighters that the coast was clear. There would be no sentries to warn the bandits of their attack.

* * *

Habren was panting, unable to catch her breath as Wacilla tortured her endlessly. She wouldn't scream. She would not.

Papay came as soon as the signal came. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

They group spread out, searching the camp for any sign of the missing women. Gawain found them first.

Gawain disposed of the two guards stationed outside the tent. He whipped open the tent flap, and took care of the rather surprised bandits. Rage rolled through his body. Their blood sprayed his skin, scorching him. He turned to Radha, who was comforting Deirdre on the ground.

Galahad ran to Deirdre, though they knew that they had to be quiet. The plan had already been outlined. Deirdre would not stay to fight. Galahad put his arm around her, guiding her back to their camp through the dark. There would be time for tears later.

Gawain unstrapped Radha's weapons from his back, and she nodded to him gratefully. She had missed them. And him. Gawain pulled her into a brief but passionate kiss, before releasing her. They had one more woman to find.

Tristan examined the bodies. They all had their throats slashed, though it seemed rather unnecessary to have gutted them. Tristan couldn't help but be impressed.

* * *

Papay found them. That animal was on top of Habren, nearly making her cry. This would not be tolerated.

"Wacilla." He said, in a soft and dangerous voice.

Wacilla raised his head from Habren's breast, and nearly showed his shock. He had not expected Papay to catch up to him so soon.

The two men stared at each other, and Habren wept softly. This was far too much emotional strain for her. Wacilla was rubbing her face in the fact that Papay wouldn't want her anymore. She was unclean. She was completely naked under another man.

"Papay, what a pleasant surprise. Perhaps you've met my woman..." he said in his most polite voice, gesturing to Habren. He ran a hand down her body, waiting for Papay to act.

Instead, Papay began to idly twirl the dagger that had fallen from Wacilla's sheathe. It had been their father's dagger.

"Do you really think father would approve of the uses you have put this dagger to?" asked Papay, forcing himself to remain calm. He had to keep Wacilla's attention on him. Habren was still in danger.

Wacilla suddenly stood, eyes riveted on the dagger. Habren took the opportunity to roll off the bed, taking the blanket with her. She didn't want to be naked any longer. It took some time for the significance of Papay's words to sink in. They were brothers. 'I shared a bed with my lover's brother?' she thought. The situation kept on getting worse and worse.

"Give it to me." Said Wacilla, his voice regaining its frosty tone, though his blue eyes were distinctly wild.

"Do you still think about him?" Papay asked, "What would he think if he could see us now?"

"_It doesn't matter how many you kill, it's how you kill." Beukan instructed his sons._

_They listened eagerly, wanting to learn the secrets to being the greatest warrior of all time. The boys were always competing, always wanting to prove themselves the best. Beukan twirled his dagger, knowing the boys' thoughts. He had had the same at their age. They had to learn that plans did not always work out. They had to learn the wonders of improvisation. _

"_Now, say one of your men betrays you in the most horrible way imaginable. How is he dealt with?" he asked._

_The boys thought for a few moments, wondering what the worst betrayal was. Finally, Wacilla spoke._

"_You kill him." He said, looking up into his father's face, wondering if he had answered correctly._

"_That's only part of it. His death must mean something. It discourages others from following in his footsteps." Responded Beukan, smiling slightly. They were catching on. They would make fine leaders one day._

"_Now, go see if your mother needs any help...and if I hear anything about you pestering Tisza's daughters again, I will be very upset." He warned, dismissing them._

_The boys scampered off, in search of their mother. If they passed by Tisza's daughters on the way, it could hardly be their fault._

_Papay turned to his brother. "Do you think you will ever have to kill anyone?" he asked, a bit worried._

"_Of course I will." Wacilla scoffed. "I will be the greatest leader our tribe has ever had." He declared._

_Wacilla strutted off, leaving Papay behind. Papay bit his lip, worried. Wacilla was a much better warrior than he was. Their father always said so. Papay would be a leader one day, though no one would like him. Everyone liked Wacilla. He had a powerful presence, something that he lacked._

_He heard the horses coming then. He turned around, a bit shocked to see the Roman officers approaching. He had never seen them before, but their red capes were legendary. They were coming for him._

_He ran to his father, but Wacilla was already there. Beukan handed Wacilla the dagger that he had always treasured, hoping that it would bring him home safely. Papay watched, but said nothing. It wasn't exactly a shock. _

_He looked about him, saddened. He would not see his village for fifteen years. If he survived that long, anyway. He wouldn't get to tease Tisza's daughters for quite some time. With that I mind he sprinted to their tent, wanting to say goodbye._

_Phalerae had just come out. When she saw him, she blushed, and smiled at him. She had always been his favorite._

"_I have to go away for a while." He said._

"_Oh." Said Phalerae, trying to smile._

"_Will you wait for me?" he asked, a bit worried now._

"_Of course I will!" she assured him._

_He smiled, relieved. He placed a hesitant kiss on her cheek. Phalerae blushed even more, turning away._

"_Come back soon!" she called over her shoulder._

_He went with the Romans with a smile on his face. He turned to the boy next to him. He had dark hair and mischievous green eyes. _

"_I'm Papay." Said, introducing himself._

"_Afsati." He grinned. "You related to that beast?" he asked, indicating Wacilla._

_Wacilla refused to speak to anyone, and was simply staring at the dagger in his hands._

"_If you be quiet about it, yes." _

_Afsati laughed. "Don't worry, little prince, we'll take care of you!" he said, indicating Angi and Magovey. Afsati hadn't been lying that day. They were stationed at the same post, and over the course of fifteen years had forged bonds not easily broken. They had learned to gamble, curse, and charm wenches together. They were the lost boys of Sarmatia, and they had fun. They couldn't wait to go home, and when the time came, the rode as fast as their horses could go. _

_They did not get the reception they expected. When Papay went to see Phalerae, he found her with a baby on both arms, and about five children attached to her legs. This had been a bit shocking. She had promised! She had glared at him, threatening to get her husband if he didn't leave her alone._

_The knights had had enough. It was time for a change of scenery._

_Wacilla had vowed revenge. He would be a leader. He would make them sorry._

They both remembered what the dagger stood for now. Revenge.

"This time you went too far. You should never have taken her. Don't you remember the last lesson our father taught us? You knew the answer then, and you know it now. Now, you will die." He said, and threw the dagger at Wacilla's chest. It found its mark. Wacilla dropped where he stood, red blossoming around the dagger.

Silence filled the tent after his last sputtering breath, and Papay and Habren stared at each other. Slowly, Papay approached. He was cautious. She would not love him now. He had let her down. She had tugged the blanket around her body, tears still streaming down her face. She ripped an amulet from around her neck and threw it at Wacilla's corpse. It was as dirty as she was.

Papay finally made it within a foot of Habren. He crouched down to her level, hand outstretched. She stared at it, wondering what he wanted. When his fingers reached out to tentatively stroke her cheek, she flinched. He withdrew his hand quickly, though she seemed saddened by this for some reason. Habren stared at the hand, willing it to return to her again. When it did not, she reached out her own hand, bringing his to her cheek.

Papay could not quite describe how her hand on his felt. For some things in life, there are simply not words. Words are often inadequate.

They heard a scream from outside the tent, and decided that there would be time for such things later. Papay picked her up, blanket and all, and carried her out of the tent. It was agreed beforehand that they would get the hostages out of the camp before worrying about the other bandits. He moved soundlessly past the tents, finally reaching their own camp.

He brought Habren to his tent, settling her on his cot. He turned to leave, to return to the bandit camp, but Habren stopped him.

"Don't go." She pleaded, gripping his hand.

It frightened him to see her like this. The Habren he knew was not afraid of anything. Tears stained her cheeks now, her eyes silently pleading with him. He could refuse her nothing.

He joined her on the cot, and she buried her face in his chest, curling into him. He wrapped his arms around her instinctually, knowing that this was what she needed. She didn't want to talk right now, but this she could handle.

* * *

Tristan had only gotten to kill one person that evening. It was disappointing, but it could not be helped. None of the hostages had been killed, so this was a definite plus. Lucky Rebekah, she'd gotten to kill two. The only one to exceed that had been Gawain, who had killed four.

They had found Wacilla in his tent, with his own dagger sticking out of his chest. Habren's dress was there, but no Habren. Papay was missing as well, so they decided that they were probably together.

Lancelot stared down at the dress in his hands, knowing what it meant. The man lying dead on the ground had violated his sister. If any of the others noticed the extra dagger in Wacilla's body, they didn't remark upon it.

The tent flap blew open with a gust of wind. The abandoned shell of Wacilla the bandit remained. He had learned his lesson after all.

* * *

"Calm down!" exclaimed Deirdre. "I'm fine! Why can't I get up?" she fumed.

Galahad had insisted that she take a nap. This made absolutely no sense to Deirdre. She had had plenty of time to sleep while in captivity! She didn't want to sleep any longer.

Galahad turned to her, worried, as he always seemed to be now. "Did they...touch you?" he asked softly.

"No." she said, shaking her head. "They didn't."

Galahad looked only slightly relieved.

"Come here." She said, motioning him over. "If I can't get out of bed, you can't either."

* * *

Gawain led Radha back to their tent. It had been empty without her. Radha found a cloth and some water and began to clean the dirt and blood off of herself. Gawain stopped her, and finished the process himself. Radha did not protest. He needed this, and she wanted this. He needed to be of use to her. Radha took the cloth from his hands, and whipped the blood from his face. He had killed four men in a manner that she had not thought possible of him. She had never been more proud.

"Why didn't you throw the axe?" she asked, remembering her dream.

Gawain studied her. He knew what she was asking. He had been wondering himself. She had meant nothing to him then. They had been enemies. Yet, he hadn't killed her. He could have. He had the opportunity. But when he had seen the look in her eyes, staring down at him, he couldn't do it. She wasn't a faceless enemy. She was a woman trying to hide her fear. He would never tell her this though. She liked to play the "invincible warrior" and he didn't want to ruin her fun.

"And miss the opportunity of getting you in bed?" he asked.

Radha just shook her head. She knew what it was, and it wasn't the reason he stated. She kissed him, then pulled away, smirking. "Liar."

"It's partially true." He insisted.

* * *

Habren sat up, and Papay followed her motions. She stared at him, wondering why he still wanted her. He had found her in a compromising situation, and hadn't said anything about it.

"Why do you love me?" she asked. He had never told her that he loved her, but she knew.

It was a hard question to answer. Papay didn't really have the words for it. "You have a good heart. I love you because I do." He said, knowing that he hadn't made much sense.

But he did.

Habren wrapped a hand around his wrist, feeling the ragged ribbon that still encircled it. She leaned forward, and kissed him. She wanted love.

Papay didn't want to remind her of his brother. He wanted to be gentle, he wanted to comfort. He let her lead. She removed his clothes, and slipped off the blanket, pulling him on top on her. She ran her fingers through his hair once more, bringing back memories of the good times. His hands were on her again, and for a brief moment, she was reminded of Wacilla. The moment passed, and everything was Papay. Wacilla was dead. Papay was not.

* * *

Tristan removed his weapons, and his bloodstained clothes. Rebekah noticed his mood.

"Stop sulking." She teased.

"I am not sulking." He replied.

"Are you ever going to marry me? First, you didn't want to get married in Britain. Then, when I agree to be married by your people, we have to go chase bandits instead. Do you plan these things?" she asked, incredulously.

"Actually, I never planned on marrying you. I will simply lock you away in a high tower. That is the extent of my plan." He said, trying to distract himself from his pitiful kill rate.

Rebekah raised an eyebrow. "I can see several things wrong with that plan. One: my father would not be pleased if you did not marry me, two: neither would your parents, three: You will have a hard time finding a high tower here, and four: No man could say that was the extent of his plan for me." She said, triumphantly.

Tristan stared at her for a bit, trying to come up with a decent defense. "One: I wouldn't tell the parents. Two: I will find a tower in Britain. Three: this is the only point you are right about." He finished, feeling very pleased with himself.

Rebekah was astonished. That had been quite a speech for Tristan.

She finally regained the use of her vocal chords. "You see, I win..." she was cut off by Tristan pulling her to him into a fierce kiss. It was at times like this that Rebekah didn't mind being interrupted.

Perhaps his parents' relationship wasn't such a mystery. Tristan was betting his father was an expert at getting Api to shut up.

* * *

Sera was asleep, worn out by the nights events. Lancelot had washed the blood from her chest, glad that she had not been harmed. His finger traced the swirling tattoos on her back, remembering the night he had first seen them. He hadn't really known her then, hadn't even kissed her. She had inspired awe in him that night, a divine presence. She was still that divine presence for him now. She was a natural soother.

* * *

Sebbi was quiet. He had faced his demons that night. Aine had removed her Woad garb, and had just finished getting the last of the blood off of her, when Sebbi spoke.

"Would you consider...perhaps...marrying me?" he asked, a bit hesitantly. He could never really tell what he meant to Aine. He knew what she meant to him, but it was often hard to tell with the reverse.

Aine turned, staring at him. He had told her of his wife, his child. This was hard for him. "I was wondering when you would ask. I wouldn't want this one to come into the world without a father." She said, patting her stomach.

Sebbi froze.

Aine looked at him expectantly. She hadn't been sure how he would react to this news. She had only found out herself quite recently, and wasn't sure whether he even wanted another child. Perhaps it was too painful.

Sebbi strode over to Aine, scooped her up, and deposited her on their cot. "You will not drink, curse, or fight during this pregnancy." He instructed, placing his head on her abdomen.

"What's wrong with cursing?" she asked, surprised at Sebbi's abrupt change in mood. "I don't think you can hear anything there." She commented.

"Do you mind?" he asked, his voice a bit muffled.

Sebbi hadn't been this happy for quite some time. He kissed her abdomen one last time before returning his lips to the mother of his unborn child. Life had an odd way for giving what it takes.

* * *

**Review Please! I'll love you Forever! (Yes, it's even capitalized!)**


	22. Chapter 22: Tattoos and Younger Men

Okay, I love the revisions in this chapter better than the last chapter. There is a nice conversation between the bandits that I didn't have before, with a smattering of scenes and dialogue I didn't have before. My favorite by far is the new scene involving Api and Tutyr. I think it's absolutely adorable! Yey for Api and Tutyr!

**The next chapter will actually be new! Yes! It may take some time, as I don't' want to have to go back and re-write another chapter for some time (though it was a nice learning experience.) Thanks to all of you for hanging in there, and the end is coming...I promise! **

**Cheetah Princess**- Haven't heard from you in ages! Good to have you back, and I'm glad you're enjoying it.

**Queen of Gore**- Yey! New reviewer! You are loved! Thanks!

**Mustang Gal**- You're back! Woo Hoo!

**Camreyn**- Again, thanks for taking the time to review something that you have essentially already read. I love Tristan, I think we all feel sorry that he missed the fun!

**Tomb Raider X**- Thanks for reviewing, I can't wait for your update!

**HGandRHrforever**- Don't worry, I fully admit that the previous versions of these chapters sucked. I like them much better now! Thanks for reviewing my Sherlock story!

The wind blew through the bandit camp. Not a soul remained. Gold and trinkets lay forgotten by their departed owners, blood stained the grass. They would never sack another village; they would never rape another woman. They would never draw breath in this world.

Sebbi woke up, wondering why he was feeling so very happy. He was a happy individual lately, with the discovery of Aine, but today held something more. The Child. He went to inspect his lover's abdomen, not noticing that she had awoken.

Aine studied Sebbi, noting that familiar look of wonder and awe on his face. She would never be bored of his fascination. His fingers hesitantly made their way over her belly, as this would provide him with a bit of new information. He was startled by her laugh.

Aine rarely laughed, and it was only recently that he had seen her smile. He found that he enjoyed both of these actions, and could only hope he could inspire them a bit more.

"Can you not even let me sleep unmonitored any longer?" she asked, smiling.

"No." said Sebbi with finality. His hands made their way up her sides, and he kissed her, cutting off her words.

Aine liked this side of Sebbi. In fact, she liked all sides of Sebbi. His intelligence, his fierceness, his affection. Sebbi had many facets, and she looked forward to discovering them all. She wouldn't want life to get boring.

They would be riding back to Tristan's village. They hadn't had time to tell Api or Tutyr of their plans, and didn't wish to make them worry. Api would anyway.

Afsati had had a troubled sleep. He kept seeing the faces of the men he once laughed and joked with staring off into the eternal nothingness of death. It had not been a pleasant evening. Angi and Magovey didn't look like they had had an easy time of it either. They nodded to each other, but didn't speak of it. Instead, they tried to distract themselves with other matters...like Papay's personal life.

"Long night, eh lads?" asked Afsati, attempting a grin.

Angi made a derisive snort. "I'll bet Papay's was longer." He commented, grimacing.

Magovey shook his head at both of them. "When we get back to some sort of civilization, I'm going to find me a woman." He declared.

The other two stared at him with a mixture of shock and horror. What would life be like with out Magovey? Or Papay, for that matter? They answered the question for themselves. It would be rather bleak.

Afsati turned to Angi. "It's the herbs. They don't just put you to sleep, they kill any sense of right and wrong! We're the last ones standing, Angi, we must resist!" he exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood. Angi, however was looking thoughtful, as if he too was considering a romantic avenue.

Afsati slowly resigned himself to a life of solitude. What was wrong with everyone? Honestly, it was an epidemic! He patted his horse's neck, and realized that the animal beneath him would be the only constant in his life from now on...until it died. Afsati didn't even want to think about that! What would he do with out the horse? He would wander the hills and valleys aimlessly for the rest of his days...mothers would tell their children horror stories of the man who once was, and now haunted the country...He would end up crawling near the end, clothing ragged, belly empty, teeth rotten, blood streaming from various cuts and bruises...now he was simply letting his mind run away with him. It was called paranoia.

Gawain was unwilling to let Radha out of his sight. He kept her on his horse, holding her tightly in place. No one would take his Woad away from him again.

_Habren had awoken in Papay's arms. It had been a pleasant shock. _

_Her mind returned to the previous evening. Wacilla was dead. He had reminded her of Papay. His body, his presence. He was not like Papay in character, however. Wacilla was utterly mad. She had sought comfort in that madness, and now wished that she hadn't. There was far too much pain involved. She wanted Papay to touch her again without memories of Wacilla. She just wanted to erase the past few days. But, she knew that that wasn't an option. What was done was done. There was nothing she could do about the past. She could, however, do something about the future. _

_Papay awoke when Habren shifted slightly. He kept his eyes closed, listening to her breathe. It was good to have her back. It was even better that she didn't hate him. His brother had been a monster. He should have killed him years ago, and none of this would have happened. Habren snuggled closer, warmth radiating from her body. _

"_I love you." He said, eyes still closed._

_He didn't see Habren blink. He didn't see the twitch of a smile. But he felt it. _

"_I know." She said, quietly._

_That was all that needed to be said. Papay held her to him for a long time. Habren swept her hands up his back, startling him. He hadn't been sure if she wanted intimacy so soon after Wacilla, but she apparently did. She kissed his neck, pleased to see that her mark hadn't faded yet. She hoped it never would._

They rode together, talking.

"What will we do?" asked Papay.

Habren was startled. "I'm going to follow you, of course." She said. It should be obvious by now!

"No, you won't. This will never happen again, because you will go back to your family." He said, firmly.

"Will I? I don't remember deciding that." She said, her tone turning rather acidic.

"My line of work puts you in danger. Even if I stopped, your parents wouldn't want an ex-bandit for a son in law." He pointed out, trying to reason with her.

"They want me to be happy. If I don't go with you, I will exist and then die. Never live."

Papay sighed. She wasn't making this any easier for him. "We'll talk about this later. Without the audience." He said. His friends were avidly listening, attempting to learn of their fate a bit sooner. Habren had become like a sister to them, and Papay-well, Papay loved her. They also had absolutely no idea what they would do without him.

Habren glanced back at the eager bandits, and flashed them a grin. They could be rather loveable at times...she had a great fondness for them all. She turned back to Papay.

"Fine. Then later it shall be. I want to sleep now." She said, leaning into him. She hadn't gotten much sleep lately, and it was beginning to wear her down.

Papay wrapped an arm around her, kissing her forehead. If the others noticed, they made no comment. Papay glanced at his fellow bandits, and they all looked away guiltily. Afsati decided the occasion merited a song...

Sebbi couldn't decide where to look. His eyes flicked from Aine's face, to Aine's abdomen, to the surrounding area, on the lookout for danger. At the sight of her lover's constantly wandering eyes, Aine laughed. Sebbi really shouldn't worry so much!

"I think I can avoid being taken off by masked horsemen, thank you!" she teased.

"Of course, dear." Said Sebbi. He clearly was not convinced. He was wondering whether he could convince the others to ride in a circular manner with Deirdre and Aine in the center. That way, both pregnant women would have the greatest protection available. Aine rolled her eyes. Some things would never change.

Deirdre clung to Galahad. While he enjoyed being needed, he only wished that Deirdre had not been through such a fright. At least they hadn't done anything to her. He had Habren to thank for that, though he didn't think she wanted thanks. She probably just wanted to forget about it. He would honor her wishes.

Lancelot tried to pretend as if nothing had happened. It was easier that way. Sera shook her head. She would tackle him over this later. She would let him be delusional for the time being.

Rebekah was preparing herself for their inevitable return to Tristan's village. Api was a lovely woman, to be sure, but she tended to inspire headaches. Tristan had given her an abrupt nod of sympathy, though that was all he would give. She wasn't the only one in the path of death. He tried to focus on the tower that he would need when they returned to Britain, though it simply was not interesting enough to block out the horrible pictures in his head. They would leave soon after the wedding. It wouldn't take long. Yes. They would stay for the evening, and be off in the morning. That was the plan. Now, all he had to do was convince his mother that it was all for the best. Fat chance of that.

Api came running to meet them. They had been naughty, not even telling her they were going for a ride! And leaving during the wedding feast!?!? She wanted grandchildren, and she wanted them soon. The sooner they were married, the sooner she would have little ones to play with. Naughty, naughty Tristan! It appeared the boy had simply never grown up.

The group dismounted to the sound of Api's scolding. They all tried to smile at her, though many of the attempts fell flat. Api inspected the group more closely.

"Did you bring some more little friends, dear?" she asked Tristan, inspecting the rather ragged bandits.

The bandits, who hadn't been called "little" for quite some time stared at her, but quickly recovered.

"Yes. I thought they would wish to meet my mother." Said Tristan, his fiendish sense of humor showing to all but Api.

The bandits glared at Tristan, and smiled painfully at Api. It would be quite a visit.

Afsati managed a grin for her. "We wanted to meet the poor woman who whelped such a lad. I wish to express my deep sympathy for you, milady." He said, bowing, and kissing her hand.

Api was so flattered by Afsati's courtly manners that she actually managed to remain silent for several minutes. She simply smiled as shyly as a maiden at Afsati. Tutyr joined the group, and looked from Api to Afsati. He just shook his head and left.

The group took this as a dismissal, and disbanded to set up their tents. They needed to prepare for the weddings, though it was rather unclear exactly how many people would be married that evening.

Tristan and Rebekah were clear contenders, Sebbi and Aine, most probably, though everyone was wondering about Papay and Habren.

Tutyr was currently tattooing Rebekah's back. Tattooing was used in most of the important ceremonies of their tribe, and weddings were one of them. Tristan had already gotten his, and was watching over the procedure. Once it was complete, there was no erasing the contract. They would be married for the rest of their days. The black ink swirled over her back, in a pattern identical to his. He kissed her hand, and she smiled. That was as passionate as he was willing to get in public. She couldn't wait to show her father _this_ tattoo. It certainly had a nice story behind it.

Sebbi and Aine were next. Sebbi had never gotten a tattoo, and was slightly nervous. Aine, who had several, was trying to reassure him. It didn't hurt _that_ badly! He was making a fuss about nothing. It was in his nature though, she supposed. It was a nature that she loved.

Api was very happy. Nine months from now, she would have a little grandchild to bounce on her knee! When Rebekah's tattoo was finished, she stood, taking Tristan's hand.

"Oh!" exclaimed Api, examining their tattoos. "I can't wait for the little ones!"

Tristan and Rebekah stared at her in terror. Children...Now?

"Um, actually, you'll probably be waiting a while for those little ones..." squeaked Rebekah, trying to comfort her mother in law.

Api blinked. "But you'll be staying here, surely..." she said, pleading apparent on her features.

"Arthur will need us in Britain. Unrest and all of that..." mumbled Tristan.

Api appeared quite crestfallen.

"We'll come back to visit though, won't we Tristan..." assured Rebekah. Tristan coughed, and Rebekah elbowed him. It was at that moment that Api decided that this woman could handle her rather childish son. She would force him to grow up.

She kissed both of them. "Now, shoo, and get me my grandchildren!" she instructed, waving them away.

Tristan and Rebekah stared at each other.

"Well, you heard the woman...let's go!" urged Rebekah, and dragged Tristan back to their tent. Their backs were still a bit sore, so it would be interesting to see how the night went.

Afsati stepped forward. "It's all right, they'll come to their senses. Though you have no need to be sad, you have me after all..."

Api patted his cheek, smiling at him. Tutyr coughed loudly, and Api removed her hand hastily. Afsati chuckled, and nodded to Tutyr, taking his leave.

Api and Tutyr were alone in the tent now, and Api was looking a bit nervous.

"It's nothing...he's such a sweet lad..." she offered, blushing furiously.

Tutyr stared at her incredulously. "Silly woman. Do you really think I believe anything is going on?"

Api stuck her nose in the air. "If you don't start treating me nicely, I have other prospects...I may be a little old, but there's life in these old bones left!" she huffed.

Tutyr nearly smiled. "Well, then I suppose I have to change my ways, eh?" he asked, and pulled her into an extremely passionate kiss.

Api pulled away a bit breathlessly, eyes wide. "See, this is what I'm talking about..."

Tutyr backed her into the cot. "Yeah?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her. Api nodded, and Tutyr kissed her again, running his practiced hands over her body. Api decided that she didn't need Afsati after all...

Habren and Papay spent the evening in their tent, plotting.

"This is getting us no where. You can't run from your family, and I will not run from my men." Concluded Papay, exasperated.

Habren considered it thoughtfully. It was true. But then, an idea formed in the back of her mind...It might just work.

**Review Please! Tell me what you like and what you don't like. Since we're nearing the end, you could tell me which chapters you like best, which chapters you thought sucked...that sort of thing...Let me know!**


	23. Chapter 23:Afsati's new friend

**Okay, I finally have a TOTALLY NEW CHAPTER! WOO HOO! There will be an epilogue after this. I'm sorry this took so long…It was my birthday on Monday, so there were lots of unplanned events then, finals week is coming up, and I've been working on my idea for my next King Arthur Story. As much as I love my characters, they will die a slow painful death if I don't stop soon. Therefore, I'm going to make a completely new story. I'm so excited! Yey! Thanks to all that reviewed! I love you!**

**Happy Thanksgiving!**

**Tomb Raider X**- Thank you!

**Camreyn**- A new chapter! Yes! Habren always has a plan…well, perhaps not _always_…

**HGandRHrforever**- Thanks! You are so nice to review my stories! I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long…

* * *

Amage had been pacing for the last several days. Every so often, Babai had managed to lure her to bed, or force her to eat. She was a wreck, and the rest of the tribe was concerned. This was the woman who had looked after all of them at one point or another. They left food outside of Amage and Babai's tent, making sure that they wouldn't have to go far for nourishment. The tribe didn't know the reasoning behind her behavior, but if anyone could figure it out, it was Babai.

Amage had just finished what was probably the millionth round of the tent, when Babai stepped in front of her. She glanced at him, annoyed, but walked around him, ready to make another circuit. Babai, however, was tired of talking to her, and receiving no response. He didn't appreciate being ignored; especially by her. Never again would he allow her to turn her back on him. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. Her eyes flared as she glared at him. He glared right back.

"Let me go!" she hissed.

"No." he said, shaking his head. "You haven't spoken to me in days. You won't tell me what's wrong. How can I help you if I don't know what's going on?" he asked.

Amage wasn't used to having someone worried about her. She was accustomed to doing the worrying. She forced herself to study Babai, trying to figure out what he was feeling. She could see the anger, that much was plain. One had to look closer to notice his concern, his hurt. Those were two things she hadn't seen in his eyes for quite some time. She knew that she couldn't go on as she had. It was wearing away her years far too soon. She sighed, leaning forward into Babai. He held her to him, a bit shocked at her actions. Amage understood. She had finally opened her eyes.

"Something's wrong." She said, finally.

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Perhaps it's nothing…" he said, trying to comfort her.

"It isn't nothing. I know something is wrong…I just don't know what. Habren…" she trailed off. She had no idea why she had this feeling, but she knew she wasn't imagining it. It was real.

"Lancelot will take care of her." He soothed, stroking her hair.

"He can't. No one can." She finished defeated.

She had gone slack in his arms, and he pulled her over to their bed. She had finally exhausted herself. She had made him uneasy. Amage didn't jest about such things. If she felt it, it must be true.

* * *

Habren looked down from the hill at the village. Her village. She looked to Papay and gave him a reassuring smile. Nothing would go wrong. She wouldn't let it.

They were met by the scouts, who eyed the bandits suspiciously. Well, they were with their own people, they couldn't be all bad…Afsati gave them a wink as he passed, and they shrugged. Some people simply had an odd sense of humor.

Habren dismounted, turning to Papay, wondering if he was ready for this. She gave her a weak smile, and nodded. He was as ready as he would ever be.

Habren pushed back the flap of her parents' tent. The scene before her eyes was one she hoped never to forget. Her mother was asleep, wrapped in her father's arms. He was stroking her hair, murmuring in her ear. Habren hadn't seen her parents like this for a long time.

She cleared her throat. Babai looked up, clearly relieved to see her. He gently nudged Amage awake, and the woman quickly turned to look at her daughter. Words could not describe the relief that flowed through her body at the sight of her daughter. She leapt from the bed, and hugged Habren to her, never wanting to let go. Sometimes, however, we must do the things that we do not want to do. She released her daughter, and noticed for the first time, her companion.

He was a handsome man, about the age of her son. He studied her carefully, curiously. She returned the gesture.

"Mother, this is Papay. Perhaps we should sit down." She suggested. Amage nodded, but kept her eyes fixed on this "Papay."

Once they were settled, Amage asked, "What happened?"

Habren didn't ask how she knew. It would be a rather stupid question. Amage always knew. "Well…the short version is that I was captured by bandits, and Papay saved me."

Amage nodded to Papay. He nodded back to her.

"And, we were wondering if you could marry us…" she said, feeling a bit less sure now.

Amage stared at her daughter. Habren had never been a difficult child. She had never shocked Amage before. Well, it seemed that everything was changing now…her son had returned, her son was married, her husband returned to her, her son and daughter left her, and now they were back. And Habren wished to be married. It was a lot for Amage to digest in such a short period of time. Habren gave her that time.

Babai came to greet his daughter, and the man responsible for her return. Papay seemed like a nice enough fellow, though he wondered what tribe he was from. He hadn't said.

Amage had composed herself. "I will marry you tonight." She announced. If her daughter wanted this, she could have it. They didn't have enough men around for her, anyway.

Habren and Papay let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Don't worry, mother. We won't leave. We can stay here. Papay would be a great help to our scouts." She assured her.

"Would he, now?" Asked Amage, her suspicions renewed. She studied him closer than she had before. She knew his scent. His clothes were in decent condition, and he didn't seem to have a village. Oh, my. Her daughter wanted to marry a bandit! But, then again, he _had_ saved her. He couldn't be _completely_ horrible. She didn't sense any negative motives in him, and she wasn't easily fooled.

"Good." Said Babai, breaking the silence. "We could use you."

"Where is Lancelot?" asked Amage.

"He's here, but I wanted to talk to you first." Responded Habren.

"Well, send him in. I'm sure you two have to…_prepare_ for the wedding." She said, dismissing them. She was straining herself. She needed to have a chance to breathe.

The two left her tent, smiling. That had gone well…

* * *

Afsati, Angi, and Magovey were setting up their tents. It was a bit odd to be back in a village setting again, with people all around them. They had forgotten all of the noises, the smells, the sights. They had to admit that the sights weren't too bad. A gaggle of giggling women stood a short distance away, watching every move. Habren had told them of their…shortage, as it were…so they had been prepared for this. Magovey decided that this was enough of a civilization for him! Angi was quite ready to agree with him. Afsati, however, rolled his eyes. How they could think that giggling was attractive was beyond him. He searched the area for something, anything, to study instead. He found something, alright.

It was a woman, which wasn't so remarkable. There were lots of women here. What was different about this one was that she was alone. She wasn't sniggering like a ninny, she was staring off into the distance, unsmiling. He had rarely seen such sadness upon human features. He wondered how she could exist, if she felt as much pain as her face showed. He wanted to speak to her, to comfort her, but he didn't know how. He couldn't bring himself to interrupt her reverie. He finished putting up his tent, listening to Magovey and Angi exchanging rather lewd comments. Perhaps he would see her tonight.

* * *

Papay was relieved. That much was obvious. Habren grinned at him.

"See, that wasn't so bad!" she laughed.

Papay shook his head at her. "You have no idea…"

"They love you already. And besides, I'm sure you'll earn your keep. Bandits won't dare come here!" she teased.

"People will wonder." He reminded her.

"Let them." She said, with finality. "The others won't mind?" she asked.

He smiled. "I'm sure they'll be able to amuse themselves. They won't run out of women any time soon…"

They shared a grin. It was very true.

"So, your mother is going to marry us tonight." Said Papay, still not quite believing that all of this was real. This was not a dream. This was very much reality.

"Yes, which means I will be able to boss you around for the rest of your life."

"Really? I thought that was my privilege." He smirked.

"Men. They think they know everything. Well, let me tell you something. When it comes to power, women have it all. We just pretend that it's the reverse. It makes the men feel needed and special. It's all a ploy." She informed him.

"You're probably right. We all know Lancelot has no control over his life…"

"Lancelot is no exception. Every so often, he manages to think for himself, though he would never get anywhere without Sera. Women marry because it is expected of them, men marry for necessity." She countered.

Papay was getting tired of debating this topic. He kissed her lightly, and smiled at her reaction. Yes, he could tolerate her nagging for the rest of his days.

* * *

Lancelot had decided not to worry about anything anymore. Everything was far too complicated for his comprehension. He used to have control of his life, now however, it was a different story. He expressed this idea to Sera.

"You will never stop worrying, Lancelot. If you try, you'll worry about worrying, and that is hardly constructive." She pointed out.

It was true. It always seemed to be that whenever you tried to forget something, it was ingrained in your memory forever.

"Well, in that case, I will have to find something else with which to distract myself…" he said, seductive grin in place.

Sera laughed. He was still Lancelot. Marriage had certainly not changed his manner. "I think I can help you out, noble knight." She said, pulling him to her.

"I'm sure you could." He whispered in her ear. He kissed her, leading her to their bed. They still had an hour or two before the wedding…

* * *

Tristan was _so_ excited to be back in Lancelot's village. _So_ excited. It meant that he was no longer in _his_ village. He no longer had to step lightly, glancing nervously around corners. Lancelot's mother didn't jabber on for hours on end. He was slightly surprised to find that he rather missed Api's constant chatter. It would pass…

* * *

Radha was throwing up, and couldn't be happier about it. Gawain was rubbing her back, soothing. Radha took a swig of water, and spit it out, cleansing her mouth. While throwing up in and of itself was not pleasant, she was very pleased with its cause. She was pregnant. Habren had confirmed it herself (she hadn't bothered to seek Amage's advice…) She was going to be a mother. Finally. Radha smiled at Gawain, and he smiled back.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Much." She grinned.

"Good." He said, and kissed her. She was pregnant, really pregnant this time. He couldn't wait for the little one. Then, he could definitely prove that Lancelot was a pathological liar… all his children looking like him…hah!

* * *

Amage sat down. She had just married her last child to a bandit. She hoped she would soon recover from the shock. Babai smiled at her, and she decided that she probably could. She felt like she could do anything when he smiled like that.

Afsati snuck glances at the forlorn looking woman all throughout the ceremony. She sat with her eyes downcast, looking even sadder (if that was indeed possible) whenever she looked up and saw the happy couple. Afsati knew that face. It was the face of defeat. No one deserved to wear that mask, no one. After the ceremony, Afsati came to a decision. It was now or never.

He crossed to the other side of the fire, and sat himself right down next to her. So much for subtle. She nearly jumped, her head snapping up to stare at him. What was he doing here? Shouldn't he be drooling over the giggling females that had been sitting next to him?

Afsati rubbed his hands together, searching for some topic of conversation. He had never felt so awkward around a woman.

"So…I'm new around here…is there anything I should know about this fine establishment?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's obvious. We don't get many like you around here." She informed him.

"Really? And by 'many like me' you of course mean devilishly charming and handsome."

She shook her head. "No. I meant enigmatic. You aren't supposed to sit here." She said, matter of factly.

Afsati smiled, tilting his head to the side a bit. "Oh, and where should I be sitting. Perhaps being enigmatic is a good thing."

She pointed to the other side of the fire, to the throng of giggling women. "That is where you should be sitting. No man in his right mind would wish to sit next to me. They are what you want." She said, as if this was all extremely obvious.

Afsati leaned closer, conspiratorially. "I'll tell you a secret. They terrify me. You, at least, can actually speak. This is a skill that seems to elude them."

Her head snapped back in shock. He wasn't supposed to enjoy the sound of a woman's voice. Men only cared about a woman's appearance, nothing more. This one was definitely deranged.

"Why are you sad?" he asked, changing tactics.

He kept on surprising her; she couldn't quite find her footing. "I'm not sad. I'm normal." She said.

"Define normal." Challenged Afsati.

She snorted. "Well, it certainly isn't you…"

Afsati placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me, my lady."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly break through that thick skin, now could I?" she smirked.

"I suppose not." He said, nodding.

Finally, Afsati simply had to laugh. And he did. The woman took one look at his red face, and offered a small smile. It was progress.

"I'm Afsati. What is your name?" he asked.

"Argimpasa."

* * *

**I hope you will accept my pathetic excuses for not updating in quite some time. Please review; it is a BRAND SPANKING NEW CHAPTER after all…**


	24. Chapter 24: Epilouge

**Some of you may not like this chapter. There is no dialogue. I am a firm believer in the thought that we cannot as humans always express what we wish to say in conversation. So, I let their actions speak for themselves. This chapter is more about the message than anything else. I have thoroughly enjoyed working on both this story and it's prequel. It is, however, time to retire my characters. They deserve a break. I'll be starting a new story soon that will probably be entitled "Andsaca- Enemy" which will involve lots of Saxons. I hope no one's done it yet, so we'll see how it goes. I also may do a few one-shots involving these characters (I have a 'Sebbi and Aine' one in mind…tee hee hee!)**

**I really want to sincerely thank everyone who took the time to review, or even just to read these stories. I want to thank you for sticking around, even when these stories lacked direction, even when the writing was less than mediocre. You are true friends, and I wish you luck in life. I hope you will continue to read my stories, even if I will not be working with these particular OC's very much in the future.**

**Camreyn-** I was so happy to see your nice long review! To clarify, 'Brand Spanking New' is merely an expression, there was of course, no actual spanking involved. (Thank God!) If there were anything I wish I could change about this story, it would definitely be to have given Afsati more scenes. I absolutely adore him. The dynamic between men and women is so entertaining to explore. They both lie to each other to keep the peace so often…you can't help but laugh! I couldn't resist poking a bit of fun at Lancelot. I love him dearly, and you must remember that this is written more from the characters point of view, not necessarily mine. I will add my own thoughts every so often, but I find it more interesting to know what everyone else thinks about something. Thanks again for leaving such helpful and thought provoking reviews. You were never afraid to tell me that you didn't like something, or thought I could do better. I couldn't have survived this without your input. Thanks again!

**Realtfarraige**- I am so happy to hear from you again! I was pining for your reviews! I am so impressed with your ability to complete six essays in one month! I love the character of Api. I always thought Tristan must have gotten his love of silence from somewhere! I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't miss them either…thanks so much for reviewing!

**A.K. Anomynous**- Yeah, that whole logging in thing has been a problem, they're updating something that I honestly don't understand, so I won't try to explain. Good to hear from you though!

**Queen of Gore**- Whether it ends in a happy manner really depends on how you see life (and death) I particularly like the death of Tristan and Rebekah, though most find it sad. Yes, I generally like to make things happy, but my version of happy is probably quite different than yours. Thanks for reviewing!

* * *

It was with great relief that the ten adventurers returned to their home in Britain. Life was decidedly less complicated there. 

Lancelot and Sera had six children, every one of them looked just like Lancelot. Perhaps he wasn't such a pathological liar after all…Lancelot died in battle, as he had predicted all those years ago. Sera lived for only a year longer than he did, tending the ill and the injured until her last breath. They had lived a good life together, and it would continue on through the ages, long after their bodies had been sprinkled as ashes to the winds.

Gawain and Radha had ten children, much to their pleasure. They had fought in many more battles, and survived many of their friends. Much to their shock, however, they did not die with a sword in hand. No, life would go on longer. They died in their sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

Galahad and Deirdre had only two children, though that suited them just fine. It took quite a bit of energy to run after the little ones, and they wished for peace in their lives. They got it, but not in the way that they had expected. After Gawain and Radha passed on, their children took care of Galahad and Deirdre. They had always been a central part of each other's lives, and they would continue to be for quite some time.

Sebbi and Aine had seven children. Sebbi educated the children at the wall, Woad, Roman, and Briton alike. Well, one could say, he only educated Britons. While Sebbi looked after their minds, Aine took over the children's physical training. They worked as a (usually) seamless team. Aine greatly discouraged his growth of facial hair, and he thus died clean-shaven and happy. He had never stopped nagging her about her lack of scholarly thoughts, and she never stopped rolling her eyes. Everyone around them always sighed at the level of romanticism they displayed. Sebbi even tried to write Aine poetry at one point, which she readily discouraged. As much as she loved the man, she never wanted to hear about her 'bosom' in those terms **_ever_** again.

Tristan and Rebekah ended their lives with five children in tow. Tristan had been extremely nervous for the arrival of their first child, so nervous in fact, that he had asked his mother to come for a visit. The old crone dragged Tutyr along behind her, and they liked Britain so much, they decided to stay. Well, Api liked it, anyway. With Api, Tutyr, and Daithi to look after the little ones when they needed to leave on a mission for Arthur, the lived life in a delicate balance. Upon their return to Britain, Arthur had mysteriously gifted them with a tower as a wedding gift. They resided in the tower for the rest of their lives. One of their daughters, who they named Habren, enjoyed sneaking out of the tower by night to visit some of the more attractive men at the wall, gave rise to the legend of Rapunzel. Tristan and Rebekah died protecting Arthur, which would have pleased them both. They may have died before their time, but no one could claim they had wasted their lives. Rebekah had managed to drag herself over to Tristan after that fateful battle, and when they were found, Rebekah's lifeless fingers were threaded through Tristan's blood soaked braids, her tattooed cheek against his.

Bors and Vanora had sixteen children before they were finished. Near the end, Vanora persuaded/bullied/seduced Bors into giving (and remembering) all of them names. This didn't mean, of course, that Bors actually remembered them all. Each child knew to give him a bit of prompting whenever their mother was about, and it amused them to tell him the wrong one. Many fights ensued.

Dagonet and Fulcinia raised both Alecto and Lucan, along with their other two children. Later, they traveled with Alecto to Rome, where he became an influential theologian; Hundreds of years later, his teachings would greatly inspire a young man named Martin Luther.

Afsati and Argimpasa were married six weeks after they met. It took Afsati that long to convince her that he was actually serious. They had eleven children together, which shocked anyone who had known Afsati previously. Afsati had found new meaning in life, and was quite glad not to be the object of horror stories, as he had once predicted. In the years that followed he and the rest of the band educated her in the old ways, so that she could wield a sword in a decent defense. This was very important, due to the new nature of the ex-bandits' work.

Papay and Habren had four children. They would have had more, but their life didn't always leave the perfect opportunities for procreation. Papay and Habren had devised a new was to earn their keep. Never before had anyone undertaken such a task. Whenever a village had trouble with bandits, they went to help. They hunted down the bandits, who miraculously lost consciousness, and took back the village's belongings. While no one would remember them by their names, their actions would inspire later generations with stories of Robin Hood. Papay's wrist ornament would become legendary, however. New leaders across Sarmatia would be initiated with such ribbons. The ornament became known as "Habren's Revenge" though no one knew why. Papay and Habren thought it to be a fitting eulogy.

Their stories would not be remembered in their original form. No one would remember Rebekah, who had killed the Saxon King Cedric. No one would remember Sera, who had killed his son. No one would remember Lancelot's love for Sera. Deirdre would never be mentioned again. Galahad would become a virgin in later tales of King Arthur and his knights. Bors would be a devout Christian, which would have amused him greatly in life. Guinevere would become both angel and demon in the mythology of Britain, though none of the stories ever truly captured her essence. None of them have ever been captured, truly. And they never will. It is a sad thing, that the first thing we forget in the spinning of our tales and stories is love. Love is what holds us together; love is what makes us strong. We like to see our hero's without any faults or weaknesses, when those things are what make us truly great.

It is important that we do remember their spirit. Names are unimportant. The essence, however, is. Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, Sera, Bors, Vanora, Dagonet, Fulcinia, Gawain, Radha, Sebbi, Aine, Tristan, Rebekah, Galahad, Deirdre, Laim, Etain, Papay, Habren, Tutyr, Api, Babai, Amage, Merlin, and Daithi are still with us. They are in each and every one of us.

Love. That is the key to their strength, their passion, their presence. Let us live it for them.


End file.
